Pokémon: Origins
by GARhalla
Summary: /Anime Canon, Semi- AU/ After his Battle Frontier victory, Ash Ketchum opts to challenge the Indigo Conference yet again, training his original team for the task. Meanwhile, far to the south, dark forces conspire to bring about world revolution.
1. Prologue: The Best and the Brightest

_**Foreword**_

_Now, the Pokemon anime is a pit of fail, and everyone knows it, myself and the members of my group included. But one day, almost a year ago today, something called to us from the depths of our memories, a weird feeling of nostalgia. Nearly a decade of unerring fan-wank after the fact, four generations of superpowered technicolor animals behind us, we looked back on our memories of the show's first english-language season, recalling that feeling of abject childhood glee we felt whilst glued to the television screen every morning, waiting to see what the adventure of the day would be. That feeling is gone now, of course, replaced by disgust at flat characters, annoying voice-overs and contrived plotlines, and wonderment at the fact that we were ever so enraptured by it all, but the thought of it remains. Suddenly, we found ourselves wondering if we could bring that feeling back, or, barring that, come up with a suitable replacement. We were unified by a terrible thought: Can we make Ash Ketchum cool again?_

_Months of bulbapedia surfing and snowballing brainstorms later, this story came together - an anime canon monstrosity that the original fans of the series, now grown, might appreciate as a suitable end to the legacy, one hopefully better than the one the show will inevitably give us. This is Ash Ketchum's last adventure, GARhalla-style._

_This is something of an AU. The storyline draws its basis almost entirely from the Pokemon anime, and everything from the anime canon, up until the end of Battle Frontier (disregarding the events of the MFTV movie Mewtwo Returns), makes up the past of this universe. The moment Ash Ketchum returns to Pallet Town after his Frontier conquest, the storylines diverge. This universe's Ash has decided to remain in Kanto and use the remainder of the year to train for the upcoming Indigo League tournament, in hopes of claiming the championship he'd failed to obtain after his first year of being a trainer._

_We are greatly encouraging reader criticism on this story, as it is our first. Basically, if you see something wrong, if you see something you don't like, if you see dead people, we wanna hear about it. The same, of course, goes for the more positive stuff, though that's secondary. So, friendly neighborhood reviewers, have at it._

_That just about covers it. If you're curious about anything else, check the profile; you should be able find what you're looking for. Thanks for reading._

_- Boss Coffee, GARhalla Head Writer_

---

**Pokemon: Origins**

---

**Prologue: The Best and the Brightest**

A soft wind swept along the dirt path, lazily stretching its whispering fingers throughout the town of Pallet. Perhaps it was this wind that made the day seem so momentous. Perhaps it was the fact that the movement of life seemed always to pull things from this quaint town, often never to return. The valley town on the Kanto coast was something of a jumping-off point; a pastoral hideaway from which so many had, in the past, set out on the journeys that had defined their very beings. Most people regarded Indigo Plateau as the birthplace of pokemon champions, but in reality, it was always the beginning, the origin point, that held that honor.

All too often, those who journey have eyes only for the end, the finale, the prize, and as they close their fists and take what is theirs, all else is forgotten. Many of those who championed the league have lived out their entire lives on the spoils, the sponsorships and endorsements, in the end only as victorious as they are unfulfilled. They are those who speak only of the end, and ironically, those who are doomed never to reach it.

It is only the true champions who remember the beginning.

---

"_I want to be the be~st... there ever wa~s... to beat all the re~st... yeah, that's my caussse..."_

Ash Ketchum sung absently, shaking a dangling foot and bobbing his head in time to the tune playing through his brand new Silph PokeGear. The pricey piece of technology was a gift from his mother upon his return from his Battle Frontier challenge. He hadn't quite puzzled out all the functions yet, but he could make calls, listen to music and tell the time of day, and that was good enough for him.

As the familiar beats of Ash's favorite song continued to pulse through his ears, a warm noon breeze overtook the branches of the tree in which he was perched, ruffling his already unkempt clothes and hair and stirring him from his musical reverie. Pikachu, snoozing in the branch above Ash's, perked up up his ears as he noticed the slight movement from his friend and the sudden cessation of his off-key singing. Leaves rustled over Ash's head as the small, yellow pokemon leapt down from his branch and into his trainer's lap, receiving an affectionate scratch behind his banana-shaped ears for his trouble.

A contented sigh drifted from the boy's lips as he gazed out at the entire spread of his tiny hometown from his spot in the tree.

_Home again, home again... _

The tall, leafy tree on the wide, sloping hill behind the Professor's laboratory, a long-standing fixture on the Oak ranch, had been Ash's favorite spot since his earliest recollection. Whether he was snacking on an apple beneath its branches at the age of five, or hiding amongst them after shirking his chores at the age of ten, Ash always considered the large tree synonymous with home. Now nearly fifteen and back under the great shadow of its myriad branches once again, he almost felt as though he'd never left.

"But we _did_ leave, didn't we, buddy..."

"Pika?" Pikachu responded quizzically, cocking his head to the right as he did.

Realizing how odd his question must have sounded out of context, Ash laughed.

"Indigo. Orange. Silver. Ever Grande. ...and Battle Frontier," he mused aloud.

Pikachu was becoming more confused by the second, but decided to brush it off. He'd long ago accepted the fact that his best friend was an oddity, even amongst humans, and it was best not to read too far into his ramblings. Still, Pikachu could understand the gist of what his trainer was talking about, and covertly rolled his dark eyes as he realized Ash was about to launch into yet another of his (mostly self-)motivational speeches.

Ash flexed his dangling legs and pumped them quickly forward, hurling his body off of the oak branch and landing in the grass below. Pikachu touched down easily on all fours in front of him, pivoting on his hind legs to look his friend in the eye.

Ash's right hand balled into a tight fist as his eyes traveled over the tiled roofs of the houses and shops of Pallet, finally coming to rest on the pokemon laboratory. Reaching into one of the cargo pockets of his baggy denim-pants, he yanked out a crumpled, red-and-black hat emblazoned with a blue Pokeball symbol and pulled it on over his shaggy, black hair.

There was a brief moment of silence. Then he exploded.

"This is it, Pikachu! This is where we show 'em all how far we've come, what all our hard work has added up to! Do you remember when we left this place the first time? You wouldn't listen to a damn thing I said, and probably for good reason," the dark-haired boy chuckled, grinning.

"Pi-_kaa_," Pikachu noted in an almost markedly sarcastic tone.

"Still..." Ash continued, "we toughed it out together. We fought through everything, against every odd, and made it all the way to Indigo Plateau."

"Pikaa~pi!" Ash's partner pokemon interjected again, this time with a bit more energy.

"Sixteenth place. Pretty good for an amateur. Damn good for a first-year. But not good enough. I, _we_, set out to be the best, to be a master of pokemon with the best pokemon at my side. You guys were definitely the best, but that year I just wasn't up to snuff.

This year will be different. After almost four years of training, we've all come such a long way, and this year I think we can hold our heads high here, in our home region, in our home league and conference, because_ this year_..."

Ash pulled open his vest, revealing six Poke Balls on his belt. Throwing his arms wide, he cast away all of them at once. The six red-and-white orbs hit the grass before him, revealing their occupants in a blinding flash of white light. Alongside Pikachu now stood Charizard, Bulbasaur, Squirtle, Kingler, Muk and Tauros.

A fierce grin came across Ash's face, his expression mirrored in some way by each of his pokemon.

"...we're gonna be the BEST."

---

South of Pallet, miles out over the ocean, a heavily shadowed figure sat in a dimly lit, windowless room, contemplating his next move in a very complicated game of chess.

Brushing a strand of long hair out of his face, the person behind the shadows contemplated the common use of his current situation as a simile for an insurmountably difficult situation.

"_Like playing three-dimensional chess against an alakazam_..."

He almost laughed, but stopped himself.

"_You may just as well have indulged yourself, master," _the alakazam "said" in its telepathic monotone. "_Verbal restraint is meaningless when one's opponent is psychic. ...Bishop to E-7b; check._"

"Indeed." The figure's voice was electronically distorted, but noticeably masculine. "A passing shortcoming in logic; how very unlike me. King to-"

The surface of the right arm of the mystery figure's leather-upholstered desk chair vibrated harshly, interrupting the calling of his next move. A red light was blinking on the integrated console, accompanied by a staggered series of buzzing noises from the small speaker set therein. The pattern was indicative of a high-priority call.

The long-haired man sighed.

"A moment's pardon, Tzu. I must take this."

"_Again, you hardly needed to vocalize that thought," _responded the alakazam, Tzu_._

"Forgive me my propriety," the mystery man drawled sarcastically.

"_Once more? How many times must I repeat myself? I was under the impression that you were considered a genius._"

Another sigh, and the man slid open a small panel on the armrest, removing a bluetooth earpiece and wedging it over his right ear before tapping a button on the console. The vibration and buzzing ceased, and the red light changed to green.

"This is the Boss. Speak," the mystery figure said in his deep, electronically-modified tone.

"Sir," came a man's voice through the earpiece, "this is Professor Sebastian."

"I am aware," the shadowy 'Boss' responded. "What is so urgent?"

"As you know, sir, my branch and I have been monitoring the area around the Seafoam Islands for the presence of Articuno. Our external search has revealed little we do not already know, but recently, our observation of the aerial infrared sweep has revealed something interesting. As I'm sure you are already aware, the core temperature of the islands fluctuates violently in regular intervals: a great chill beginning halfway through spring that declines slowly through summer and fall, only to peter out entirely in winter. This flux has occurred without fail in this precise manner for as long it has been recorded. However, as we approach the end of May, the full force of the chill has yet to hit. I believe that this can mean one of only two things. I believe Articuno is either dead, or-"

"-or it is with child." The Boss finished for him. "Most unusual; I was under the impression that the Omega pokemon, the so-called "legendaries", were one-of-a-kind."

"Yes, sir. You are correct on both counts, but as Namba's previous research with Lugia proved, there are certain exceptions."

"I was aware. It's good to hear you've been doing your homework. Anyhow, this is indeed most interesting news, but I assume that you made this call not only for the sake of sharing with me this enlightening little morsel. What is it that you require?"

"How typically astute of you, sir. The ice caves under the islands where the bird nests are somehow impenetrable to our aerial sonar. Apparently, their constitution and construction naturally inhibit sonic mapping."

The Boss nodded.

"Understandable. The bird's choice of quarters would of course provide the best of protection and seclusion. I trust your sonar has at least found you the most viable entrance?"

"Indeed. I ordered a reconnaissance group to map out the interior of the caves, but the islands' innards have proven both more labyrinthine and treacherous than any of us could have assumed. I need more support, both human and pokemon, as well as the adequate supplies and equipment, before the expedition can continue."

"Very well," the Boss replied, "I shall see to it that your team gets the resources it needs. Boss out."

He terminated the communique with the press of a button.

"_Well,_" Tzu telepathically intoned, "_I believe our game will have to be postponed. A pity. My ego was due for a good stroking._"

"Another day, perhaps. You may go."

The Alakazam nodded his large head and exited the room without another word.

Closing his eyes and lacing his fingers, the man known as 'the Boss' turned over in his mind the information he had just received, internally catalouging the facts into specific channels of his brain and examining their effects on his plan as a whole. The news of a possible second Articuno was indeed fortuitous, but its effect on his strategy at large was fairly minimal. An infant Omega-type raised from birth as a Rocket warrior would be a powerful ally and a great boon in future endeavors, but he could not allow himself to be too distracted by the new development. There were still many more Omega pokemon to capture, and all available resources needed to be channeled into their pursuit. That said... the new Articuno could be instrumental in subduing some of the more powerful of them. Perhaps... Yes. The pregnant Articuno's capture was now first priority. This was the most viable course of action; the power of a Rocket-controlled Articuno was well worth the delay and change in the overall strategy.

His eyes snapped open as he unlaced his fingers.

He turned his chair towards a monitor display, a hologram system that projected an array of individual screens across a single, giant pane of smoked glass. He called up one of many holographic keyboard layouts onto the smaller pane of glass before him and, grinning catlike, cracked his knuckles.

There was much plotting to be done.


	2. Chapter 1: To Be the Best

**Chapter 1: To Be the Best**

"Electivire, use Thunder Punch!"

A massive, yellow-furred fist collided with the side of Pikachu's head, sending a shower of electricity spraying out from the point of impact. The voltage coursed through the smaller pokemon's body, amplifying the force of Electivire's physical blow and sending Pikachu hurtling toward the ground. It collided with the soft earth and slumped to the ground, out of the fight.

Ash had been practicing here, on Professor Oak's private battlefield, since he'd returned to Pallet. Though the field was well below regulation size, and surfaced with grass, rather than dirt, he found it a more than suitable place to train for Indigo, and besides, he had a damn good training partner.

Ash leapt forward to his pokemon's side, eyes full of concern for Pikachu as he crouched alongside him in the dirt.

"Pikachu! You okay, buddy?"

The electric mouse pokemon responded with a dazed "Pii" and rocked itself to its feet.

"All right!" Ash grinned, ruffling the fur on Pikachu's head. "Can't keep ya down, can they?"

Gary Oak sighed, recalling his Electivire into its Pokeball.

"Close enough to it, Ash," he said, running a hand through his spiky brown hair. Currently on break from his research in the Sinnoh region to help Ash train for his second Kanto League run, he'd traded in his labcoat for a more casual ensemble of a black t-shirt and beige slacks. "That match was all mine; you can't congratulate Pikachu just for not getting knocked out."

"Are you saying we're doing something wrong?" Ash questioned his old rival with a challenging air.

"Well... yes. Look, Pikachu's really well-trained, and it can hold its own against just about anything, but-"

"So what's the problem, then?"

"The problem is that there's a difference between 'holding your own' and 'winning'. You've seen it yourself, how the League matches are. D'ya really think anyone there is just trying to 'hold their own'?"

"How about the Frontier Brains? What about Brandon and Regice? Were they just 'holding their own', too?"

"Pipi-PI!" Pikachu agreed vehemently.

"I'll admit, that must have been quite a battle, but a single win doesn't mean much, in the grand scheme of things, and Iron Tail probably accounted for almost all of the damage you did to Regice, right? What would've happened if Pikachu hadn't learned it?"

"...But he did, so what's it matter?"

"What I'm saying, Ash, is that luck is one thing, but it's skill and power that'll see you through the League Championship. You've got the skill, that much is clear, but you're lacking in power. Right now, half your team consists of unevolved pokemon, and while they're all great in their own right, so are everyone else's who'll make it through the prelims, and you can bet they'll all be fully or partially evolved. Imagine a well-trained Bulbasaur up against a well-trained Venusaur. Answer me honestly, Ash, who d'you think would win?"

Ash pondered this for a moment, rubbing his chin.

"Blastoise."

"Huh?"

"Blastoise versus charizard. Who do _you_ think would win?" Ash asked, smiling.

Gary grinned back sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Okay, so you got me there," he conceded, remembering his match against Ash in the Johto league quarterfinals.

"I'll admit that evolution and type matching count for a lot in a battle," Ash went on, "but there's more to this than facts and figures. It's not that I don't want stronger pokemon, I just think the pokemon deserves the final word; if they don't wanna evolve, I won't force 'em. Besides, when I think back to all the elite trainers I've met over the past few years, I don't believe that they got to where they were by pushing pokemon to evolve against their will. Yeah, there might be a difference between 'winning' and 'holding your own', but there's also a difference between being 'strong' and being 'the best'."

Gary laughed.

"Still all hung up on being 'the best', huh?" he chided jokingly, making quotation mark gestures with his fingers. "I don't think they've invented a 'Pokemon Master' title yet; think you can settle for 'Champion'?"

"I guess I could deal with that 'til something better came along."

"Heh. Yeah, I'll bet."

Gary plopped down onto the grass next to Ash, and Pikachu settled into Ash's lap.

"What's your grandfather been up to lately?" Ash asked earnestly. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of the pokemon professor for weeks. It was a curious occurence; Oak was the heart of Pallet, and could almost always be seen bustling about somewhere around town.

"Ah, he's been holed up in his study for a while now," Gary responded dismissively. "The head of my research team in Sinnoh, John Rowan, is an old friend of his, and he ended up coming back here with me. They've been sipping drinks and talking about old times since the moment we arrived."

"Ah. I see."

There was a long pause in conversation as the group gazed out over the horizon, each lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly, a sharp gust suddenly blew through the small, grassy battlefield where the two boys (and one pokemon) sat, stirring the well-trimmed turf and ruffling fur and hair before continuing on through the rest of the fields behind the pokemon lab and out toward the northwest. Toward Indigo Plateau.

As if on cue, Gary broke the silence.

"So, Ash, think you can take it this time?"

"Huh?"

"Indigo. We're leaving tomorrow, right? Think you've got it in you to be champ?"

"Absolutely. I'm the man who's gonna be the best! The whole reason I'm back is to clear a black mark on my record, and the only way to show 'em how far we've come is to take the title."

Gary leaned back on his hands.

"That's a good mindset to have. You won't get anywhere if you're not shooting for number one. ...I think that might be why I lost to you in the end."

"Who knows?"

Another long silence passed before, suddenly, Gary pushed himself up to his feet.

"Ash, I know you didn't get this far by planning ahead, and I know you don't take a whole lot of stock in facts and figures, but there's something you need to see and learn if you plan on getting any further. Come with me."

"Well," Ash said, getting to his feet as well, "if it improves our chances, I'll give it a shot. C'mon, Pikachu."

Pikachu leapt up onto Ash's shoulders with a "Cha!", and the two followed Gary back toward the laboratory.

---

The main room of the lab was as simultaneously spacious and cluttered as ever. The interior of the large, two-story structure adjacent to the Professor's home was a shining testament to his slightly scatterbrained genius. The upper floor, composed only of wide, steel walkways running the circumference of the building's interior, was stocked with large, highly complex-looking machinery, with bunches of loose wires and cables dangling precariously over the sides of the catwalk railings like a trellis of roboticized vines. Ash had no clue what any of the doodads on the second floor did, and even Gary couldn't have explained the majority of them.

The ground floor was more of a traditional laboratory setup. While there were a good number of intimidating techno-thingies along the walls, including a huge computer array covering the entirety of the lab's rear wall, most of the floor space was taken up by desks and lab tables, each strewn with various articles, from loose notes and books to bunsen burners and half-charred beakers. A half-eaten bowl of instant ramen sat on one of the desks, giving off a strong scent of kimchee. Ash recognized a Poke Ball transporter in the left corner of the lab, and the slightly theatrical-looking pedestal-thing from which Oak typically handed out pokemon to starting trainers.

Inside the main room, Gary settled into a wheeled desk chair, rolling it across the room and up to one of the many computer terminals on the far wall of the ground floor.

Silently, he switched on the monitor and began tapping at the screen with his fingers. As Ash looked on, the pressure-sensitive touch screen responded to Gary's rapid commands, opening menus and files, selecting and deselecting various options.

Ash was positively perplexed. He could never have been counted amongst the "techno-savvy" youth, and given the sheer speed of technological development over the past several years, he'd been left light-years in the dust. His home PC barely saw any use at all, and was outdated even when it was new, not that it mattered much to him. Being away from home the vast majority of the time, he almost never had a chance to use it, let alone a reason. Leave computers to the geeks and the researchers; that was his thought on the subject, and that was precisely what he did. As Gary continued to toil away at the computer, his fingers now clacking rapidly across the keyboard, Ash's attention drifted away from the monitor and back toward the Poke Ball pedestal.

Pikachu, still perched on his friend's shoulder, followed Ash's gaze. As he, too, looked at the pedestal, there seemed to be moment of concurrent understanding between Pokemon and trainer. There was a certain reverence in the pair's eyes as they looked simultaneously forward and back, taking in both memories of the past and prospects of the future. Ash had felt an especially odd sense of nostalgia ever since he'd returned to Pallet, but looking at the pedestal brought the feeling surging to the surface. He turned his head, catching Pikachu's eye and whispering in his ear.

"I know I've said it before, and I know how corny it sounds, but this is _it_. This is _destiny_. Coming back to Kanto, challenging Battle Frontier, returning to where it all began... it was the perfect time to take on Indigo again. Too perfect to be coincidence. We're gonna _win_, buddy, I can _feel_-"

"Hey, Ash," Gary interrupted. "You gonna look at this, or what?"

Ash's immediate reaction was to say something snappy, but he thought better of it, and turned his attention dutifully back to the computer.

Prominently displayed on the monitor was the red-and-white outline of a Pokeball, the stylized "L" symbol of the Pokemon League emblazoned above the release button. The ball itself was framed by the words "Pokemon League", perhaps for the benefit of the five-or-so people on the face of the Earth who couldn't identify the League symbol on sight. Ash, of course, could. That little "L" was the centerpiece of his once-prized old cap, long since discarded in some dusty corner of his room.

Ash's interest was instantly secured.

"That's the League Emblem... what is this?"

Gary allowed himself a small, self-satisfactory smirk.

"_This_, Ash, is the League database. It contains every last bit of publicly available pokemon-related data that the League possesses. A veteran trainer such as yourself should have half the stuff in it memorized by now, but since you're a little late for that, I'll give you the crash course."

Ash was awestruck. Pikachu looked vacant.

"How long has this been around?"

"Since before you and I were born, Ashy-boy. It's the pro trainer's oldest and arguably most valuable asset. Look here..."

Gary tapped at the screen, selecting the text field captioned "Trainer ID#", and hammered out a string of seven numbers on the keyboard, followed by a censored code in a second field. As he hit the "enter" key, the screen changed to the database homepage, a multi-tiered index headed by a "Search" field and the phrase, "Welcome, Gary Samuel Oak."

"I thought you retired?" Ash queried.

"I did, but I still need a valid trainer's license, obviously," Gary responded, tapping one of the Poke Balls attached to his belt. "So anyway, the database has three tiers: one available to the general public, one for us trainers, and one for League use only. Right now, we're logged on to trainer version, which means we get access to some of the juicier tidbits and in-depth data that the general populace misses out on. You have access to this one, obviously, and you can view it from any computer with internet access, so long as you have your ID card. Since you're participating in the Indigo tourney, let's call up a list of this year's registered participants..."

"You can do that?"

"Absolutely."

His fingers blurring across the keys yet again, Gary flew through several screens in a matter of seconds, ending up with a rather long list of those trainers lucky and skilled enough to qualify for the League tournament, organized alphabetically by last name.

Gary flicked his cursor over a random name ("BARTONNE, RAYMOND", Ash read).

"Clicking on a participant's name," Gary said, clicking on Raymond Bartonne's, "opens their trainer profile. Profiles have a headshot of the trainer, detail personal statistics, age, hometowns and such, past League activity, awards, merits, and honors, and, most usefully, pokemon data."

"Wow," Ash chuckled nervously, suddenly very aware of his technological ignorance. "Seriously?"

"And it's all updated daily by League Central," Gary said, closing Bartonne's profile and swiveling his chair around to look Ash in the face. "Thousands of trainers out there know you like the back of their hand, 'Ketchum, Ashton'. It's about time _you_ got to know some of _them_."

Ash put on his best determined face.

"Where do I start?"

"Well," Gary said, turning himself back around, "I've kinda taken the liberty of starting for you. I skimmed the Indigo contestants' profiles and bookmarked the ones who look like the most trouble. I also hit up some of the trainer blogs and channels online, to see who's a hot topic this year, and I came away with some interesting info."

"What's that?" Ash asked, now leaning over Gary's shoulder slightly, intent on absorbing as much useful information as possible.

"It seems like _you're_ one of this year's hot buttons, Ash. Anyone who places in an annual tournament their first year is someone to watch out for, but you've gone beyond that. By traveling abroad in different regions, and participating in different leagues, you've built yourself a powerful and varied team that not many can match, especially those who've confined themselves to Kanto. Your Battle Frontier wins are also public knowledge; you're one of a grand total of five, count 'em, _five_ people in this tournament who've conquered the Frontier. You're quite the respected trainer, pal."

Ash was speechless.

"Y-you're serious? That's _awesome_."

"Don't let it go to your head, though," Gary continued. "You've still got some stiff competition at Indigo. There're a few familiar faces, too. Remember her?"

Gary opened one of his bookmarked profiles.

"FISHER, JEANETTE", it read. Next to the name, there was a picture of a pretty young woman with light green eyes and long, black hair tied up with a large bow. She wore a kimono and a determined smile.

"Yeah, I remember her. She'd be no problem for me now, though."

"Bear in mind, Ash, that you're not the only one who's been training these past few years. She's way stronger than she was the last time you met. Like you, she beat the Frontier. Unlike you, she did it _last_ year."

"That's quite a leap for someone who uses only grass and bug-types," Ash said, impressed.

"She's still got that motif going, but with a few new twists. Check it out."

Gary scrolled down to the listing of Jeanette's pokemon.

Ash whistled.

"Beedrill and bellsprout are the same ol' stuff, but scizor, exeggutor and heracross... She's been a busy girl. Still, I think I can rely on Charizard to make the sweep."

"Don't bank on it. Weren't you the one going on about how typing can't account for everything? Look here..." Gary said, scrolling further down the page. "Her official match records include victories against several fire-types, and anyone who's anyone is gonna be packing a secret trump card. The database only keeps tabs on pokemon used in official League matches."

"I'll keep that in mind, but c'mon... it's _Charizard_."

Gary smirked.

"That's a valid point, too. Alright, next we have Alan Croket. Johto native. This guy kinda came outta left field; nobody's heard of him before, but he's got a solid battle record, and his team is both strong _and_ varied."

"He's gone eight for eight in the Gyms, but..." Ash trailed off.

"...No other official records. This guy likes to play it close to the chest."

"Yeah. It's weird."

"Well, anyway, what do you think?"

Ash considered the question a moment, looking over Croket's pokemon data and battle records carefully.

"Okay... alakazam seems to be his main leadout, and it's definitely his strongest, so far as I can see. See here? He smashes through anything he can with Alakazam's power, and tags it in and out with umbreon for support when he's in a tight spot. It's a more-or-less perfect combo."

"Pretty much... now how do we break it?"

"The number one problem is alakazam. It's psychic attacks are powerful, and we can't match its speed. I think our best chance is rush it from the get-go and beat it into the ground before Croket can get his bearings. Pikachu, I can count on you, right?"

"Pi-KA!" Pikachu rejoined gamely, pumping a tiny fist.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Gary insisted. "This is one mean combo. I was pretty heavy on strategy back in the day, but the way he uses these two is... Well, let me put it this way: my alakazam and umbreon are great, but they wouldn't stand a chance. These two are _good_."

"Then we'll just have to be better than that," Ash said firmly, his face set. "We've always made our way by pushing forward with everything we have and having faith in our own strength. It's nice to know what to watch out for, but there's no use in psyching ourselves out. All I need to know, and all I need to remember, is that we're gonna be the best in the world, and come what may, we'll win. So long as we keep believing that, there's nothing to fear."

Gary stared at Ash for a moment before leaning back in his chair, his brown eyes uncharacteristically downcast.

"Now I know..." He spoke quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "I finally know why I lost to you."

Leaning forward slightly, he reached out and flicked a switch, throwing the monitor into darkness.

"Hey! What're you-?" Ash reached out, as if about to stop Gary turning off the monitor, despite the fact that he'd already done so.

"Ash. Listen." Gary cut Ash off, slumping back into his chair. "Back when you and I were rivals, I thought _knowing_ this stuff- " He jerked a thumb at the now-blank monitor. "-was my advantage. Even after all this time watching you, I've realized only just now that _needing_ it was my weakness.

But you... you don't need this. Somehow, you're better off without it. _Somehow_, in defiance of all logic, you've managed to turn even ignorance into strength. _Somehow_, rather than having to use the odds to your advantage, you can simply cast them aside and continue on regardless. Were it anyone else, they would've crashed and burned a long time ago, but here you are... This is your power, Ash; this is why I lost to you, and this is why you can win here... No- why you can always win."

This time, it was Ash's turn to stare, and as the apparent gravity of Gary's words sunk in, he started to laugh.

Gary looked up, getting halfway out of his seat.

"What? What's so funny?"

"I dunno," Ash said, still chuckling. "I guess I just never thought about it that much, and now that you've brought it up, I'm suddenly realizing how odd it really is. I guess it seems like I have some sort of inner power, but truth be told, I don't think I'm different from anyone else. I just have this tendency to make it by the skin of my teeth. If anything, I'm just stubborn and lucky. ...But I think you're right, on one level: Why fix what isn't broken?"

He grinned at Pikachu, scratching the electric Mouse Pokemon under its chin.

"I guess. But I still think it's something deeper than that," Gary said, getting to his feet and checking his PokeGear for the time. "Anyway, it's getting late, Ash, and we're leaving for Indigo tomorrow morning; time to pack it in. Before you go, though, I'll ask you again: Think you've got what it takes?"

Ash merely grinned in response.

---

And so ends chapter one. Rather short, I know, and not the most exciting stuff in the world, either, but fear not; things start picking up in the next installment.

Next time: Ash has taken the Indigo Conference by storm, easily smashing his way through the ranks, but we find him sweating on the eve of the semifinal bout. One fight away from the final match, he's finally starting lose his cool. Can he regain his confidence and win his toughest battle yet? And even if he does, he may yet find a far greater challenge just around the corner...

All this and more in the next exciting episode of Dragon Ba- ...Oh, wait. That's not right.


	3. Chapter 2: True Warrior

**Author's Note - Kinda Important, Not Really:**

So folks, chapter two touches down with a crash; it's nearly three times as meaty as number one and the prologue combined. Luckily for you folks at home, the majority of it is straight-up battling. Hopefully, this makes up for the distinct lack of action in chapter one.

Anyhow, I'd like take a moment to discuss setting, since it comes up once or twice in this chapter. Over the course of the Pokemon legacy, several real-world nations (USA, China, etc.) have been mentioned. The nation encompassing the various regions, though bearing striking resemblance to Japan, has never been named. In this story, it is Japan.

On a totally unrelated note, this of one of a few chapters in this story that contains a blatant _Gurren-Lagann _homage. See the sig link for details on that, and watch the series if you haven't already; I swear, you'll never look at a drill the same way again.

And that's all for now. Have fun, and as always, don't skimp on the criticism. If you see something in here that needs work/correction, let me know, and I'll be on it like artificial dye on your grandmother's fragrant toiletpaper.

Peace.

- _Boss Coffee_

**---**

**Chapter 2: True Warrior**

The roar of the crowd. The electricity on the air. The almost oppressive heat of the summer season mixed with the searing aura of Moltres' eternal flame presiding over the stands. The power. The prestige. The shock. The awe.

The League.

As the anguished cries of the defeated commingle with the triumphant shouts of the victorious, and the air rings with the cacophony of combat still in progress, every person present, every man, woman and child, feels their soul come alive with the raw thrill of battle. Pokemon and human alike bring the fruits of their long efforts, their very souls, to bear in this pinnacle, this climax of the past year and more. People from the entire nation over have traveled to Indigo Plateau for the simple, somewhat barbaric privilege of witnessing over two-hundred of the strongest trainers in the region pit their pokemon partners against each other in all-out combat.

What draws these people here, to this spot, so inevitably? What force drives them to, every year, travel from far and wide to bear witness to this incredible contest of strength and will?

One could say, and rightly so, that the League tournaments allow these "civilized" men and women a brief, primal release, a week-long window into a feral world long since left in the past, but from which certain primeval instincts remain. To witness violence and bloodshed, to sate their suppressed animalistic desires, they come to chant and cheer.

Perhaps it is the regularity of the event's occurrence itself that so compels them. In a world of poverty, strife and chaos barely contained under the thin veneer of polite society and governmental control, the people of Kanto take comfort in the ever-present routine of the Pokemon League. They know that come hell or high water, regardless of circumstance, sometimes seemingly in defiance of fate, the annual summer championship will take place. So long as the League is open, they know that the world still turns.

In all honesty, though, what drives these people so inevitably to Indigo year after year is no promise of bloodlust or fleeting comfort, but in fact, is something much simpler, much more human.

What drives them is envy.

If one thing can be said with certainty, it is that most, if not all of these tournament-goers were once trainers themselves, dreaming youngsters with their souls afire at the prospect of battling pokemon for a living. Most every bus driver, fry cook, accountant and plumber, most every human being in all of Japan was once an idealistic youngster with dreams of becoming a professional pokemon trainer. Unfortunately, just as surely as every child dreams, those same dreams are often trampled under the hard bootsoles of reality. The commonness of young, aspiring trainers is matched only by the scarcity of successful ones. Perhaps they lacked the talent, perhaps the maturity, perhaps the tenacity and drive, but regardless of reason, many a pokemon journey has ended on a poor note.

Still, years later, after university, work and marriage, in the hearts and minds of these former dreamers, the fire is still alive. Though they may decry the notion of being a pro trainer as a child's pipe dream, an immature fantasy, their hearts betray them. Inside every girder-hefting construction worker and pencil-pushing desk jockey is a young boy or girl with a smile on their face and a Poke Ball in hand, and just once every year, that inner child gets to bask in the vicarious glory of witnessing the region's best going head-to-head. To many of the attendees, it's a mere glimpse of what might have been.

...Not that any of that matters to the participants, least of all one black-haired, cap-wearing young man one battle away from the final bout.

---

"GAAAH." Ash half-sighed, half- groaned, letting his head fall backward against the wall of his room in the trainers' dormitories. There was an audible 'THUNK' as the back of his head hit the cheap drywall.

He was sitting cross-legged on his dishevelled bed, back against the wall, with his cap placed over one knee and an almost untouched can of soda sitting in his lap. He buzzed his lips, absently gazing upward at the whirling blades of the fan that took up nearly half the ceiling of the tiny room.

Across the room, a slightly annoyed-looking Gary sat with his chair tilted back against the wall, his legs up on a small table in front of him.

"Ash, I know you're nervous about your match," he intoned dully, cocking one eyebrow, "but do you really need to make odd noises and hit your head on the wall every few seconds? You're about an hour away from bashing through into the next room."

Ash laughed nervously, brushing a few stray bits of plaster from the back of his head.

"Sorry, can't help it."

"Look, Ash. There are better ways to deal with your nerves than concussing yourself... -or stuffing your face," Gary said, looking pointedly at Pikachu, who was sitting atop the table munching on a bowl of brown... _something_ and looking thoroughly dissatisfied. He looked up at Gary momentarily, then back at his food before discreetly pushing the bowl of Pokechow off the table and into a trash can.

"Well, what do _you_ think I should do?" Ash said, somewhat gloomily.

Gary let out a small laugh.

"Why don't you go talk to your mother?"

"Ah, that's just what I need: a lecture about changing my underwear and the importance of Vitamin C to kill the butterflies in my stomach. You must be joking."

"I am, but it's still funny."

Delia Ketchum had followed her son to Indigo Plateau, shacking up in a hotel just outside of the Trainers' Village, and had religiously attended each and every one of her son's matches, something that had only increased Ash's nervousness. Not only that, but she had recently begun hounding him about his health and hygiene between matches, much to his annoyance. Her presence at Indigo had really been nothing more than a bother to Ash, but he hadn't had the heart to tell her off.

"Hey," Gary piped up again after a moment's pause, "I've got to go make some calls; think you can occupy yourself 'til I get back?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Okay," Gary said, getting up. "I'll be back in bit."

"Mmn," Ash grunted nonchalantly, collapsing sideways onto the bed.

As Gary went out the door, Pikachu hopped off the table and onto the bed in front of Ash's face. He tugged on his trainer's face with a tiny paw.

"Pi-kaa."

"Gee," Ash said sarcastically, gently shoving Pikachu away, "that's not annoying at _all_."

"_Pii_-kachu," Pikachu snapped back.

"Yeah... you're right," Ash admitted, rolling himself off the bed and onto his feet. "I can't lie around forever."

Snatching his cap up off the bed and tugging it firmly over his head, he walked over to the table and grabbed his PokeGear. Tapping a few buttons, he brought up his phone book, and, finding the number he wanted, hit the 'CALL' button.

A second passed. Two. Three.

"Hey! Richie! What's going on? You busy? ...Yeah, me too. Listen, you wanna get a bite in the village? ...How 'bout the burger place? It was good last time. ...Cool. I'll meet you there."

The PokeGear beeped as Ash ended the call. He looked across the room at Pikachu, who was sniffing tentatively at the trash can where he had dumped his questionable meal.

"Hey Pikachu, you wanna go out for burgers with Richie and Sparky?"

"PI-**KA**!"

---

Half an hour later, as the sun was setting on Indigo Plateau, Ash and Pikachu were sitting across a booth table from Richie and his Pikachu, Sparky, chowing down on the first full meal they'd eaten since the day before. Pre-battle nervousness had done no favors for Ash's appetite, and Pikachu, in the absence of cooked food, had been forced to down Pokechow, which he detested. Needless to say, the two were famished.

"Ash," Richie laughed, "you guys should slow down. You're going to choke on something."

"Mrrrphurger," Ash responded through a mouthful of hamburger.

Pikachu, assaulting a basket of french fries, said nothing.

Richie mock-sighed, slapping a hand over his face. Sparky the pikachu mimicked his trainer, his lightning-bolt tail twitching in exasperation.

Ash popped the last bit of his hamburger into his mouth and chewed ravenously before swallowing it down and following it up with the last of his cola.

"Ahh, man," he sighed contentedly, "I didn't even realize how hungry I was."

"Pikaaa..." Pikachu added, looking dejectedly at his now-empty basket.

"Well, that's hardly a reason to risk asphyxiation," Richie joked, "especially considering your match tomorrow."

Ash's stomach rumbled oddly.

"Don't remind me," he groaned. "I can't even sleep; it's driving me up the wall."

"Aw, c'mon. You've got it easy. _I'm_ the one who should be worried. Jeanette's a pushover; but that Croket guy is one tough customer."

"Right. She got to the damn semifinal on luck alone. She's just a pushover. It all makes such sense now," Ash droned sarcastically.

"Well, okay, maybe she's tough, but so are you! It's taken me four years to get this far in Indigo, and you just drop in out of the blue and make it all the way to the semifinal round. It's not like _you're_ here on luck alone, either."

Ash allowed himself a small smile.

"Yeah, I'm pretty good, huh?"

"Damn right you are. Listen, Ash, I'll make you a deal: Let's both get through to the final round. It'll be you and me in the last match, like it should've been four years ago. Loser pays out half his prize money to the winner. Sound fun?"

"Hmph," Ash smirked, his spirits rising at the prospect of a challenge from his old rival, "sounds good to me. But what makes you so sure _you'll _make it? I thought your fight was harder than mine?"

Richie took one of his Poke Balls from his belt, holding it up for Ash to see. Like all his others, it had a star emblem, though, Ash noted, the star was upside-down on this one.

"I've got a secret weapon. An ace in the hole, so to speak. I'm hoping to save it for the final, but if it comes down to it, I'll use it in tomorrow's match."

"A secret, eh?" Ash got up from his seat, stepping out of the booth. "I'll look forward to seeing it in battle, but for now, I need to rest up for my match."

"Right," Richie agreed, also getting up. "We're not in the final round just yet."

The two boys split up at the door of the restaurant, each heading toward his respective dormitory.

As Ash walked, Pikachu jumped up onto his shoulders with a pronounced "Pi!", slightly more energetic after eating a meal not born of a can.

Ash patted his partner's head.

"I think I needed that," he said, his voice clearer, more confident. "I don't know what I was thinking, but I know what I'm thinking now: We'll win tomorrow, no matter what it takes. We'll win."

That night, the duo dreamt of victory.

---

"WELCOME, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, TO THE FIRST MATCH OF THE SEMIFINAL ROUND!"

The stadium announcer's amplified voice boomed out over the stands, fully audible even over the trumpeting fanfare and the screams and cheers of the audience. It was another blazing hot summer day, and as usual, the sweltering heat of Moltres' flame cascading from the stone bowl at the head of the stadium did nothing to help the situation. Yet, in the face of the moment, the heat was utterly forgotten.

"TODAY WE HAVE A SPECIAL GUEST IN THE ANNOUNCER'S BOX: RENOWNED POKEMON RESEARCHER, PROFESSOR SAMUEL OAK!"

"Hello, everyone." The elder Oak's cheery voice rang through the loudspeakers, still audible, but not as obnoxiously loud as the announcer's.

The tournament was coming to a head. Over two-hundred trainers had fought, long and hard, but now only four remained. By the end of this day, those four would be reduced to two.

Ash's heart was like a drum in his chest, hammering out a deep, fast beat that shook him to his very core. But this was not nervousness. No.

This was excitement.

Yesterday's uncertainty was but a distant memory now; he had no idea how he could've been so stupid. True to Gary predictions, his opponent was a major threat, but he'd beaten her once before; he could do it again. Besides, Charizard and Muk gave him a powerful advantage over Jeanette's grass-and-bug team, and unlike their prior match, this one was on a league-standard dirt field. This fight, Ash felt sure, was in the bag.

"THE MATCH WILL NOW COMMENCE!"

"This match is between the red trainer, Jeanette Fisher of Crimson City, and the green trainer, Ashton Ketchum of Pallet Town!" The refereree announced, the headset over his right ear recording the proceedings. "This is a full match, each trainer will use six pokemon with no time limit! There are no substitutions! Begin!"

"This time it'll be my victory, Ash!" Jeanette called out, throwing a Poke Ball into the field. "Go, Beedrill!"

Each trainer's first pokemon had been predetermined before the match, to assure fairness. Jeanette, apparently, had chosen Beedrill.

Jeanette's beedrill emerged from its Poke Ball and hovered up into the air. The wasplike species of pokemon was famous for its aggressive attitude, but there was honestly no place for the bug in tourney-level battles.

"JEANETTE HAS CHOSEN BEEDRILL!" The announcer stated the obvious. "THIS MIGHT BE A POOR MOVE ON JEANETTE'S PART!"

"Beedrill, huh?" Ash queried tauntingly, readying his own ball. "That's a little nostalgic. Let's go all the way with this one, Charizard!"

The Poke Ball containing Ash's charizard careened onto the field, opening in a bright burst of white light and releasing its contents onto the hard turf. As the light faded, Charizard's massive frame came sharply into view. Raising his horn-capped head, the mighty orange dragon roared up at the heavens, his powerful voice echoing through the stadium.

"AND ASH HAS SELECTED CHARIZARD!"

A collective cheer rose up from the crowd. Over the past week, Charizard had become something of a fan favorite, well-recognized for his tenacity and strength, as well as his showmanship. Charizard, like many in his species, was quite prideful, and liked to put on a good show.

Jeanette looked slightly apprehensive. A fire/flying pokemon had a massive advantage against her, and she knew from watching Ash's previous matches that Charizard was strong.

Beedrill, on the other hand, looked as placid as ever, its huge, emotionless red eyes betraying nothing as it hovered in midair with glassy wings.

Jeanette seemed to take her pokemon's neutrality to heart, and steeled herself for a hard battle. So Charizard was strong. Her other pokemon had ways of dealing with both flying and fire types, so she wasn't too worried on the whole. Beedrill, however, was in trouble. Still, he would have to fight; there were no substitutions, after all.

"Go, Beedrill! Show them your Twinneedle!"

Silently, Beedrill rocketed forth, flying low to the ground and charging Charizard. It pulled back its spear-tipped forelegs in preparation for a double jab.

"JEANETTE TAKES THE INITIATIVE! BEEDRILL IS COMING IN FOR A TWINNEEDLE ATTACK!"

"Charizard, don't flinch! Grab it, now!"

Reaching up with his clawed hands, Charizard grabbed a needle in each fist, stopping the attack.

"INCREDIBLE! CHARIZARD HAS BEEDRILL BY THE STINGERS! THE TWINNEEDLE ASSAULT IS STOPPED IN ITS TRACKS!"

"Most impressive!" Professor Oak commended.

"Beedrill!" Jeanette yelled. "You have to get out of there!"

"BEEDRILL IS STRUGGLING MIGHTILY, BUT IT CAN'T BEAT CHARIZARD'S SIZE AND STRENGTH! NOW IT'S GOT BEEDRILL WRAPPED UP IN ITS ARMS, AND IT'S FLYING UP INTO THE AIR! COULD IT BE?!"

The fans up in the stands were going into hysterics. This had all the makings of their favorite Charizard move.

Ash smirked.

"Give 'em what they want, Charizard!"

"CHARIZARD HAS LOOPED AROUND, AND IT'S DIVING BACK TOWARD THE EARTH! THIS IS IT! IT'S A SEISMIC TOSS!"

At the last moment, Charizard grabbed Beedrill around the abdomen and hurled it with all his might at the ground. Beedrill streaked through the last ten feet of air and hit the ground hard, shooting up a cloud of dust and dirt from the point of impact.

As the dust cleared, Beedrill was revealed, prostrate and unconscious.

"Beedrill is unable to battle!" Called the referee. "Charizard wins the match!"

"You fought hard, Beedrill," said Jeanette, recalling her pokemon.

Charizard snorted loudly.

---

Back in the stadium locker room on the 'red' side of field, Gary sat on one of the benches, watching the match on a giant flat-panel television screen. As an associate of Ash, a competitor, and the grandson of Professor Oak, he'd been allowed access to the areas normally reserved for combatants.

He cheered loudly as Ash's Charizard executed his one-hit KO, pumping a fist.

On the bench beside his, the mysterious Alan Croket sat in stony silence, awaiting his own match. It was unusual for a competitor to be in the waiting area so prematurely; Gary assumed the man was here already because he had no friends or family accompanying him at the tournament. It made sense, as he was from a foreign region, but still... the man seemed odd.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, seemingly in his early forties, perhaps late thirties. His strong, obtuse chin was clean-shaven, and his thick, shoulder-length, dark brown hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. Clad in a dark grey wool suit and black shirt with a velvety black tie, he looked as though he would be more at home in a Yakuza gang war than a pokemon match.

As Croket continued observing the match, Gary began observing Croket. He noticed in particular the man's narrow, cool grey eyes.

In his time as a trainer and researcher, many of Gary's colleagues had spoken of his own eyes, saying that they "sparked with intelligence". He had never really known what they were talking about; eyes were eyes, not windows into the brain. Suddenly, though, observing Croket's cool, calculating gaze, he understood what they had meant.

He tore his gaze away from Croket's, checking his PokeGear.

"_You're late, guys,"_ he thought, turning his attention back toward the screen. "_What the heck are you doing?_"

---

"IN SECONDS, CHARIZARD HAS ENDED THE BATTLE WITHOUT RECEIVING A SINGLE HIT! WHAT WILL JEANETTE USE TO COMBAT THIS KO'ING MACHINE?!"

"Exeggutor," she said, almost in response, "win this for me!"

In a burst of light, Exeggutor appeared, each of its heads ready and willing to do battle.

"AND IT'S EXEGGUTOR! IT'S PROVEN ITS POWER IN PREVIOUS MATCHES, BUT CAN IT OVERCOME THE TYPE DISADVANTAGE?"

"EXEGGXEGGUXEGGTORXEGG!!!" The Coconut Pokemon's five heads bellowed in a cacophony of conflicting thoughts and voices.

"You're not overcoming anything! Charizard, hit it with a Flamethrower attack!"

Jeanette looked positively serene.

"Stop it with Light Screen, Exeggutor."

Charizard reared back his head, flames gathering at the back of its throat, and let loose with Flamethrower. There was sound of rushing air as a huge jet of fire shot from his mouth at high speed. The stream of flames shot toward Exeggutor and washed over it, seemingly about to burn the leafy grass-type alive. Upon closer inspection, however...

"A POWERFUL LIGHT SCREEN IS SURROUNDING EXEGGUTOR! CHARIZARD'S FIRE ATTACK HAS LITTLE EFFECT!"

"That's a very high-level Light Screen," Professor Oak confirmed. "The way it molds itself around Exeggutor's body, rather than manifesting as a bubble or wall... it's a great defense against special attacks like Flamethrower."

---

Up in the stands, roughly halfway up the aisles, an enormous, well-muscled man was watching the match with particurly rapt attention. The large, high-tech pair of binoculars he was clutching clashed rather comically with his western cowboy outfit, and he tugged uncomfortably at the brim of his oversized hat.

"I didn't realize how annoying these hats can be..." he remarked in a deep baritone voice.

"Stop your whining," snapped the elderly woman seated next to him as she adjusted her floppy bonnet. "You picked the damned outfit for yourself, it's your cross to bear."

"Right, right," the man grumbled. "Anyway, this is shaping up to be an interesting battle... I wonder if _he's_ paying attention."

"Feh! He'll be too busy sweating himself to death to pay any mind to the battle. That godforsaken polyester noose of his... can he go _anywhere_ without it?"

---

Back on the field, Exeggcutor's Light Screen was still frustrating Ash.

"Dammit!" Ash snarled, clenching a fist. "Special attacks won't work! Get in close and give it a Steel Wing!"

Charizard kicked off the ground with a low growl, annoyed with his Flamethrower's ineffectiveness, and flew at Exeggutor, his wings glowing with a dull, silvery light as he began executing Steel Wing.

"CHARIZARD SWOOPS IN FOR A STEEL WING! IT'S A PHYSICAL BLOW, SO- WAIT! EXEGGUTOR HAS STOPPED CHARIZARD DEAD IN ITS TRACKS WITH CONFUSION!"

"What?!" Ash yelled.

It was true. Exeggutor had surrounded Charizard's entire body with an glowing blue corona of psychic energy, and had him suspended in midair, helpless.

"Good work, Exeggutor!" Jeanette cheered. "Now keep it immobilized, and hit it with Egg Bomb!"

"Crap! Charizard, use your strength and fly out of there!"

Charizard grit his teeth, eyes clamped shut as he tried to escape the psychic hold. He accomplished a low growl, but nothing else appeared to come of it.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE TIDE HAS TURNED! JEANETTE HAS CHARIZARD RIGHT WHERE SHE WANTS IT! AND HERE COMES EGG BOMB!"

The rightmost of Exeggutor's heads had begun to shake violently, emitting a dull glow as it did so. Suddenly, it popped off, falling down towards the ground, now glowing with an almost violently white light. A moment before it hit the ground, Exeggutor grabbed it with telekinesis and hurled it toward Charizard.

"CHARIZARD CAN'T ESCAPE CONFUSION! IF EGG BOMB HITS HEAD-ON, IT COULD MEAN THE END!"

"Charizard! FIGHT IT!" Ash roared.

The Egg Bomb was only a few feet away from impact when Charizard's eyes snapped open. A clawed hand shot out and caught the exeggutor head as the dragon's wings beat hard, launching him through the air toward his opponent.

Jeanette could only look on in shock as Charizard's fist collided with Exeggutor's central head, shoving the ejected head back into the bunch just as it exploded.

The force of the eggsplosion sent both Charizard and Exeggutor hurtling backwards through the air, each one landing and collapsing on the ground about thirty feet away from each other.

The crowd sent absolutely wild. They had no idea what had just happened, but they knew there was a big explosion, and that was good enough for them. Even the announcer seemed at a loss.

"A-AMAZING! CHARIZARD SOMEHOW MANAGED TO BREAK THROUGH THE CONFUSION HOLD AND TURN EXEGGUTOR'S EGG BOMB AGAINST IT! BOTH POKEMON HAVE BEEN THROWN TO THE GROUND! PROFESSOR! CAN YOU EXPLAIN TO US WHAT'S JUST HAPPENED HERE?"

"Well," said Professor Oak calmly, "it's really very simple. Exeggutor is able to use complex attack combos because each of its heads is an independent entity. Simultaneously protecting itself with Light Screen and holding Charizard with Confusion was possible when it had five heads, but removing one for the Egg Bomb attack weakened it. That's all there is to it."

"FANTASTIC! CHARIZARD HAS BROKEN THROUGH EXEGGUTOR'S PSYCHIC ATTACKS WITH THE SHEER FORCE OF ITS INTENSE FIGHTING SPIRIT!"

Oak looked disgruntled, but said nothing.

Meanwhile, Charizard was struggling to his feet at Ash's vehement behest.

"C'mon, Charizard! You've got to get up!"

Charizard rose, snorting a bit of smoke in Ash's direction as if to say, "do you really think I need to be _told_ that?"

Exeggutor, meanwhile, was flailing its legs about, its lack of arms seriously inhibiting its ability to get to its feet.

"Exeggutor," Jeanette commanded calmly, "use Confusion to lift yourself."

"Tor," its five heads said in unison as it rose up in the air, carried by its own psychic power.

"Charizard! Hit it with Steel Wing, now!"

With a roar, Charizard lunged forward, barely leaving the ground before his left wing collided with the still-levitating Exeggutor.

"JEANETTE USES CONFUSION AS A BRILLIANT RECOVERY MOVE, BUT CHARIZARD'S STEEL WING HITS HOME! ATTACKING WHILE EXEGGUTOR'S POWER WAS CONCENTRATED ON SELF-LEVITATION HAS ALLOWED CHARIZARD A CLEAN HIT!"

The coconut pokemon was thrown backwards by the blow, once again landing hard on its back.

"Confusion again, Exeggutor! Get up!"

"Tor!" The heads chanted again, levitating their own body, though this time it seemed as though it took more of an effort.

"Steel Wing again! Don't give it a second to recover!"

Another glowing wing smashed into Exeggutor, throwing it to the ground once more.

"Get up!"

"Take Down!"

"Again!"

"Skull Bash!"

"IT'S A BRUTAL AND POWERFUL SERIES OF ATTACKS! ASH WON'T LET JEANETTE'S EXEGGUTOR RECOVER ITS STANCE!"

---

In the stands on the other side of the stadium, two more odd figures were observing the battle with interest.

"Ho!" Bellowed one of the figures, a fit-looking Japanese man in a hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. "What overwhelming brute force!"

"Yeah," assented the other figure, a thin man of average height whose large aviator sunglasses obscured over half his face, "but you can't underestimate the power of a psychic-type. That exeggutor is well-developed."

---

"Exeggutor," Jeanette yelled, flustered, "drop the Light Screen and pour all of your power into a Psychic attack!"

Panting from exhaustion and its injuries, Exeggutor released its psychic defense and concentrated solely on attacking Charizard. The air around Charizard began to blur and distort as ESP waves cascaded around the pokemon's head.

At first, Charizard barely seemed distracted. Then, Exeggutor drew its focus in close, penetrating Charizard's mind and rendering him helpless with psychic power. Charizard shook his head violently, as if trying to physically dislodge Exeggutor's telepathic presence from its skull, but to no avail. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his thoughts, scattered and vacant, refused to come together. Even the flame on the tip of its tail sputtered and shrunk to a mere fraction of its usual size.

"EXEGGUTOR IS STILL ON THE GROUND, BUT IT'S STOPPED CHARIZARD'S ADVANCE WITH A PSYCHIC ATTACK!"

Professor Oak nodded sagely.

"Even though Exeggutor is disadvantaged as a grass-type, its psychic abilities make it a wild card. So long as it can dominate the opponent's mind, any physical setbacks are immaterial."

Jeanette smirked, her confidence returning.

"You fought well, but your mind is mine! Exeggutor, finish it!"

"Oh no you don't!" Ash yelled out over the field. "Charizard, Flamethrower, dead ahead! You can do it!"

Charizard looked unsteady. It seemed barely conscious, on the verge of passing out.

Several seconds had passed, and it appeared that Charizard was beyond outside influence. It either hadn't been able to hear Ash's last command, or was too confused to follow it.

"Come on, Charizard," Ash begged, "you can't let yourself get beaten here! You took on legends and won, and now you're gonna get whupped by a bunch of _eggs_?! Is this it?! CHARIZARD!"

The entirety of the Flame Pokemon's massive frame was visibly shaking, straining to move. Charizard's body was locked in combat with its own scattered mind.

"CHARIZARD IS FIGHTING THE EFFECTS OF PSYCHIC, BUT IT DOESN'T SEEM TO BE DOING IT MUCH GOOD!"

---

Back in the locker room, Gary watched the match with intensity, his fists clenched in anticipation.

Suddenly, a low, even voice wafted into his ear.

"She has him. It's over."

Gary looked over in surprise.

"So, you can talk after all," he quipped at Croket, crossing his arms. "...But I think you're wrong. I know Ash, and I know Charizard; they won't allow it to end here."

Not even bothering to look Gary's way, Croket resumed his silence.

---

"Come on, Ash," Jeanette taunted. "Give up already and recall your pokemon. If it keeps struggling like this, it could result in permanent brain dama-."

"_Don't underestimate us!_" Ash roared, brandishing a gloved fist.

And then, to Jeanette's shock, Charizard's right arm slowly began to move.

It was slow at first, rising shakily and desperately, fingers outstretched as though reaching for a phantom oasis. Then, suddenly, it shot straight out and pulled in before Charizard's face, the talons of his hand closing and tightening into a fist to match Ash's.

His tail flame went from a dying sputter to a roaring blaze in seconds, shooting multiple feet from his body, and in an instant, his eyes were clear again. As Exeggutor's hold over his mind was broken, Charizard flared his wings wide, and, flexing his arms, he raised his head and bellowed his return.

The announcer began yelling wildly.

"THIS IS SIMPLY ASTOUNDING! I'M AT A LOSS TO DESCRIBE WHAT'S JUST HAPPENED! OAK, WAS EXEGGUTOR'S STRENGTH DIVIDED SOMEHOW, LIKE LAST TIME?"

Professor Oak grinned, despite himself. Ash had once again overcome outrageous odds through unwavering stubborness.

"No..." he said slowly. "This time, I think... it was just _fighting spirit_!"

"Damn right!" Ash shouted over the din of the cheering crowd. "End this! _Overheat_!"

With a screech of righteous anger, Charizard began his Overheat attack. His body immediately began to glow red with heat, and the air around him rippled and blurred. Charizard's eyes narrowed as he continued to power up, and he flashed a toothy grin in Jeanette's direction.

_Ha-ha. Fuck you._

As the glow intensified, Charizard literally burst into flames, a massive aura of fire consuming his entire body. He reared back his head, and everyone from Ash, to Jeanette, to the spectators, to the announcers could see the massive flame gathering in his throat. The air above his open maw warped, and a deep whooshing sound filled the air as the fire intensified, along with the burning glow of Charizard's superheated skin.

"FOLKS, THIS IS ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME! OVERHEAT APPEARS TO HAVE STACKED WITH CHARIZARD'S SPECIAL ABILITY, BLAZE! THOSE WITH SENSITIVE VISION MAY WANT TO AVERT THEIR EYES, THOUGH I'M SURE YOU'LL KICK YOURSELF LATER FOR MISSING THIS!"

Jeanette was panicked. She threw up a hand to shield her eyes, squinting to see what was happening on the field.

"H-how did you escape our Psychic? That's impossible, totally impossible!"

Ash bowed his head, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face and shielding his eyes from the intense light of Charizard's fire.

"Impossible? Maybe. But to face every challenge head-on... To grasp the fire in our hands and do the impossible regardless..." Ash raised his head, steeling his gaze as flames danced in his eyes. "THAT'S OUR WAY!"

"No!" Jeanette screamed. "Exeggutor! Light Screen, max power!"

"It won't help you now! Charizard! LET IT RIP!"

At Ash's command, Charizard whipped his head forward, and the Overheat attack erupted from his mouth in a massive gout of flame. Tendrils of heat distorted the entire field, blurring everyone's vision, even as the huge flame devoured all traces of oxygen present in and around its path. This was not a stream. This was not a wave. It wasn't even a beam.

It was a flood.

The mass of fire that jetted from Charizard's maw was enormous. Its circumference at the widest point was easily three times that of Charizard itself. It careened across the field and washed over Exeggutor like a tide, engulfing the Coconut Pokemon entirely.

For perhaps the first time in League history, the announcer was literally at a complete loss for words.

"Exeggutor, stand strong!" Jeanette cried. "I believe in you!"

Charizard allowed two seconds to pass, then, straining against his own massive power, he lifted his head, redirecting the giant wave of flame toward the heavens. Almost all the spectators looked up simultaneously to see the the huge Overheat blast reach its maximum altitude.

It never made it. Before it could reach its zenith, the attack impacted the dispersion field installed around the battleground to keep stray attacks from injuring people in and around the stands or causing unnecessary damage. The blast pressed against the field in an oddly beautiful display, as the dispersion field absorbed the flames and converted their thermal and kinetic force into harmless bursts of colored light. Attacks frequently struck the sides of this barrier, but rarely did they reach the top, even under the most extreme of circumstances, considering the flight ceiling allowed to flying-types.

Both awed by the attack's range and somewhat disappointed by the fact that it didn't get to reach its highest point, the onlookers turned their gazes back down toward the field.

As the flames on the ground died down slightly, Exeggutor's prone form came into view. It was lying on the ground, throughly unconscious and still on fire, but alive.

"Exeggutor is unable to battle! Charizard wins again!"

As the announcer finished the call, and Jeanette recalled her pokemon, Charizard's flame finally started petering out. A few seconds later, the incredible Overheat came to an end. His head dropped back down, and he grunted self-satisfactorily, surveying his handiwork. The opponent was vanquished. A good half of the dirt field was either charred black or still burning. All-in-all, a damn good job.

"Charizard..." Ash said softly. "You were phenomenal."

The flame dragon seemed to smirk as he shrugged his shoulders, his eyes closed in an expression of smug serenity.

_Were you expecting any different of me?_

Turning back toward Jeanette, Charizard narrowed his eyes... then smiled broadly. As the forest trainer looked on in surprise, Charizard stumbled forward and collapsed, utterly exhausted.

The beam from Ash's Poke Ball caught it just before it hit the ground.

"Charizard is also unable to battle!" The ref called. "Under these circumstances, the red trainer, Jeanette, will release her pokemon first! Begin!"

Jeanette paused in thought, her hand hovering over the Poke Balls tucked into her sash.

_That Charizard was even more dangerous than I thought... what monstrous power. Still, all things considered, that couldn't have happened any better than it did. But if it hadn't overexerted itself like that... No... it's over now. I shouldn't dwell. _

_That was his only fire-type; I'm almost certain. So then... I'll use this one!_

Jeanette's hand shot into her_ obi _sash, yanking free a Poke Ball.

"Let's go, my friend!" Jeanette yelled, casting it into the field.

The orb opened, and the shining crimson form of a scizor erupted from its confines, its glassy, membranous wings fully extended and buzzing with anticipation. The armored insectoid clacked its powerful pincers and slammed them together before taking a fighting stance.

"JEANETTE HAS CHOSEN SCIZOR AS HER NEXT BATTLER! IT LOOKS LIKE ITS RARING TO GO! CAN IT MAKE UP FOR HER ONE-LOSS DEFICIT?"

"Green trainer, choose your pokemon!" The referee shouted to Ash.

"Hm. Those are some big claws..." Ash grinned, tossing out his own ball, "but we know a thing or two about big claws, too! Show 'em a real grip, Kingler!"

Kingler emerged onto the battlefield, spittle bubbling from its thorny maw. It raised its massive left claw, slamming it down upon the earth with a loud cracking sound.

"KOHKIIKOHKII!" It burbled incoherently.

"ASH HAS SELECTED KINGLER! WHO WILL COME OUT ON TOP IN THIS CRUSHING BATTLE OF CLAWS?!"

"Ready..." The ref chanted. "Begin!"

For a moment, neither trainer issued a command, both wary of the other's power. Fire from Charizard's mighty Overheat still blazed around the two pokemon, creating the image of a dramatic standoff. Then...

"Kingler, Bubblebeam! All barrels!"

"KOHKIIIIIKIKIKIKIKI!" Kingler growled, jetting dense streams of thick-skinned bubbles from its mouth, as well as both claws.

"Iron Defense, Scizor, then cut straight through with Bullet Punch!"

"Sciiizor!" The Pincer Pokemon screeched, crossing its claws in front of its face.

Immediately, Scizor's already gleaming shell took on an even shinier tone, the sunlight reflecting perfectly off its polished surface. It then thust its arms down and back, and took off full speed across the field towards Kingler, using its powerful, buzzing wings for further acceleration.

"SCIZOR HAS LITERALLY STEELED ITSELF WITH IRON DEFENSE, AND IS CHARGING STRAIGHT INTO KINGLER'S BUBBLEBEAM!"

Scizor met the Bubblebeam head-on, cutting through the torrent of watery globes, bubbles impacting its hardened shell and either bouncing away harmlessly or popping on the iron carapace, the huge stream barely even slowing its charge.

"C'mon Kingler, turn it up!"

"I don't think so, Ash! Take it, Scizor!"

Scizor broke through the last leg of the charge and pulled back a claw, slamming a Bullet Punch straight into Kingler's open mouth.

"SCIZOR DELIVERS A LIGHTNING-FAST BULLET PUNCH TO KINGLER! KINGLER IS THROWN BACKWARDS BY THE FORCE OF THE BLOW, BUT IT DOESN'T APPEAR TO HAVE DONE MUCH DAMAGE!"

It was true. Kingler was pressed back several feet, but its hard shell appeared to have weathered the blow.

"Kingler has excellent defensive capability due to its armor-like shell," Professor Oak commented. "This, combined with water-types' natural resistance to steel-type attacks, allowed it to endure the Bullet Punch unharmed. However, the same can't be said for its balance, which is remarkably poor..."

"Press the assault Scizor! Keep it off-balance with Razor Wind, then get it with X-Scissor!"

Scizor planted both feet firmly, pulled its claws to its waist, and began moving its wings back and forth with extreme rapidity.

"Kingler, get your bearings and attack!" Ash yelled. "Don't let it finish charging Razor Wind!"

"KOHKIII!"

Kingler flailed in an attempt to get itself balanced, but its giant, unweildy left claw kept throwing it off.

"Sssssszorrr!" Scizor growled, its wings reaching maximum velocity. Fine, deep gashes began appearing in the dirt surrounding it, and it began narrowing the focus of its attack. As Kingler continued to reel, the ground before Scizor's feet was being torn to shreds by a seemingly invisible force.

Then it exploded outward, blades of pure wind slamming into Kingler's body, damaging it, if only barely, but more importantly, throwing it hopelessly off balance. Pinwheeling its arms, its feet scrambling for steady footing, it tumbled backwards onto the ground.

Ash swore. A Kingler on its back was nearly helpless. Its left claw afforded it no way of righting itself.

"A POWERFUL RAZOR WIND FROM SCIZOR BLASTS KINGLER OFF ITS FEET! SCIZOR IS COMING IN FOR X-SCISSOR! THIS MIGHT BE THE END OF THE CRAB!"

Scizor leapt forward, its arms crossed in an 'X' in front of its face. Its twin pincers, jaws open wide, slashed down at Kingler in a cross chop.

Ash's eyes widened.

"That's it! Kingler, Vice Grip its arms, NOW!"

Kingler, still stuck on its back, reached out with its huge claw and intercepted the crossed arms of Scizor, interrupting the X-Scissor attack with its 10,000 horsepower grip and pinning the arms together.

"Now pull yourself up!"

"ASH HAS TURNED SCIZOR'S OWN ATTACK AGAINST IT, USING SCIZOR'S WEIGHT TO HAUL KINGLER TO ITS FEET! NOW SCIZOR IS CAUGHT IN KINGLER'S MIGHTY VICEGRIP!"

Jeanette didn't blink.

"Iron Head, Scizor! Hit the claw!"

Scizor's head shone brilliant white as it brought it crashing down on Kingler's pincer.

Kingler's body shook from the force of the impact, but it stood strong, its claw maintaining the hold.

"Again, Scizor!"

"Hold tight, Kingler!"

Another Iron Head attack made contact, and this time, for just a moment, Kingler flinched as the impact's vibration ran through its arm.

"Pull back, Scizor, and kick it away!"

Yanking back its arms, Scizor lifted a iron foot and kicked Kingler between the eyes, finally extricating itself from the ViceGrip.

"AND SCIZOR BREAKS FREE! BUT WHAT'S THIS? IT APPEARS SCIZOR DIDN'T GET OFF WITHOUT SOME SERIOUS DAMAGE! ITS ARMS LOOK INJURED!"

It was true. Scizor's arms no longer appeared to hold the fighting form they had at the battle's outset. They hung almost limply at its sides, as though even lifting them was an effort. A spiderweb of fine cracks were visible in the crimson armor coating its arms, evidence of damage done.

Kingler, too, seemed in less than good shape. Its mighty left claw sat dully on the ground before it, clearly damaged by Scizor's Iron Head assault.

"KINGLER'S CLAW ISN'T LOOKING TOO HOT EITHER! WITH BOTH OF THESE POKEMON'S MAIN WEAPONS WEAKENED, HOW WILL THE BATTLE PAN OUT?"

"Scizor, we've got them now!" Jeanette bellowed with an almost uncharacteristic amount of energy. "Keep those pincers up!"

"Kingler, don't give in!" Ash encouraged. "We're almost through. Lift that claw and finish this!"

One could almost swear that the two pokemon were sweating as they strained to resume fighting stances, despite the lack of sweat glands in either. Scizor's steel frame shook and Kingler's mouth bubbled over with spittle with sheer effort.

"THESE TWO ARE STRUGGLING JUST TO GET IN FIGHTING SHAPE! THIS MIGHT BE ANOTHER DRAW!"

"WE'LL MAKE YOU EAT THOSE WORDS!" Ash yelled at the top of his lungs. "Kingler, this can't be all the punishment you can take! Charge Scizor and hit it with your Crabhammer!"

"KOH-KINNN." Kingler burbled loudly, skittling forward on its four spindly legs, its claw still dragging uselessly behind it.

"Don't let them beat you, Scizor!" Jeanette cried, her fists clenched. "Stand your ground and hit it with Metal Claw!"

"KINGLER IS CHARGING SCIZOR! ITS CLAW STILL LOOKS INJURED, BUT IT APPEARS TO BE ATTEMPTING A CRABHAMMER! THE CLAW IS GLOWING WITH POWER, BUT IT'S STILL DRAGGING!"

"They're pushing themselves to the very limit," Oak cut in. "If they push any harder, they might do serious damage to themselves!"

Scizor's right claw, still hanging at its side, took on the metallic sheen of Metal Claw. One of Scizor's eyes appeared practically pinned shut with strain and agony.

"KIIIING-_LER_!" The Pincer Pokemon roared, finally closing the distance. As it got in close, with extreme effort, it finally hefted its giant claw up into the air, arcing it up towards Scizor's head for the Crabhammer.

Suddenly, Scizor began to move. The eye opened, and the glowing right arm shot up in the air.

"GOOOO!!!" Screamed both trainers in unison.

---

"Hello!" The odd man in vacation clothing called, walking up to the giant cowboy and old woman, carrying a tray of lemonades. "I thought you two might want some drinks."

"Ahh," sighed the bonnet-wearing woman, "at last. I thought I'd shrivel up and die in this abhorrent heat."

Suddenly, the massive cowboy shot up out of his seat, slamming his hands down on the railings in front of it, actually bending the metal pipes slightly in the process. His jaw dropped as he stared out into the field.

The hawaiian vacation man looked over to see what the oversized man was gawking at.

The tray of drinks clattered to the floor, spilling everywhere.

The two men gazed, wide-eyed, at the action playing out on the battlefield and stammered, in perfect sync:

"_C-...C-CROSS-COUNTER_!"

---

Crabhammer crashed into Scizor, catching it under its steely chin. Metal Claw swung down in a wide, powerful arc, smashing into the crown of Kingler's head.

Scizor's eyes went completely white, as its pupils rolled back into its head. Briny spittle burbled out of Kingler's mouth as if from a fountain, and both pokemon shuddered violently before collapsing onto the ground.

"FANTASTIC! AMAZING! CRABHAMMER HITS HOME JUST AS SCIZOR HAMMERS DOWN ON KINGLER WITH A METAL CLAW! IT'S A CLASH OF DESPERATION MOVES AS BOTH POKEMON ARE KNOCKED SENSELESS BY EACH OTHERS' BLOWS! THIS MIGHT BE THE MATCH OF THE CENTURY!"

"Kingler, get up! Finish it off!"

"Scizor, rise, and end this!"

"NEITHER POKEMON APPEARS TO BE RESPONDING TO ITS TRAINER'S ORDERS!"

The referee started counting down.

"1... 2... 3... 4... 5..."

Scizor shuddered, its eyes coming back into some form of focus, and it forced itself back up, panting heavily.

"6... 7... 8..."

"Kingler! Get up, NOW!"

"9... 10! Kingler is unable to battle! Scizor wins the match!"

Ash recalled his pokemon, sighing.

"It's alright Kingler, you did your best," he grinned, looking fondly at the Poke Ball in his hand. "Now," he yelled, "finish it off, Muk!"

Muk flowed out of its Pokeball and onto the field, its sludgy purple body already exuding enough reek to reach all the way to the stands.

"Muuuuk," it groaned, opening its huge, vile mouth and raising its two proto-arms in perhaps the closest it could get to a dramatic battle pose.

"...AFTER A GREAT RECOVERY FROM SCIZOR, ASH HAS SELECTED _MUK_ FOR BATTLE! THIS NASTY POISON-TYPE POKEMON MIGHT'VE BEEN A POOR CHOICE ON ASH'S PART; STEEL-TYPE SCIZOR IS IMMUNE TO POISON! WHAT IS THE TRAINER THINKING?!"

"Pretty bad choice of pokemon, Ash," Jeanette commented. "Your Muk can't even scratch my Scizor."

"We'll see about that!" Ash retorted. "Your Scizor's a step away from fainted as it is!"

"We'll see indeed! Scizor, use Rest!"

"Sciiii," Scizor sighed, letting its eyes droop closed. In moments, it was surrounded by a rippling cool blue aura.

Rest was a universal technique; nearly every pokemon was capable of learning it, and apparently, Jeanette had taught it to her Scizor.

"SCIZOR USES REST! OVER THE NEXT MINUTE OR TWO, ITS HEALTH WILL BE RECOVERED ENTIRELY!"

"An excellent tactic," Oak remarked calmly. "Using an immobilizing technique like Rest in a normal battle is a risky gamble at best, but against a largely ineffective opponent like Muk, Scizor can sleep without fear."

"Muk," Ash urged, "don't let it recover! Hit it with Sludge Bomb!"

Muk slurped forward, opening its mouth and vomiting out a ball of sludge at high speed. The Sludge Bomb rocketed forward and smashed across Scizor's body, coating it in toxic sludge.

Scizor was utterly unaffected.

"AS PREDICTED, MUK'S ATTACK HAS NO EFFECT; SCIZOR CONTINUES TO SLEEP! PROFESSOR, WHILE WE'RE WAITING FOR SCIZOR TO AWAKEN, WHY DON'T YOU EXPLAIN TO US THE SCIENCE OF REST?"

"Certainly," Oak smiled, always happy for an opportunity to show off his scientific knowledge. "Rest is not, contrary to popular belief, actual sleep. It is, in fact, a unique, genetic talent inherent to nearly all pokemon. The technique involves utilizing nearly all of the body's energy and devoting it solely to regeneration. As a result of the concentration of energy, only the most neccessary of bodily functions continue to be performed. Even brain activity is reduced to an absolute minimum, creating the illusion of deep sleep. Though it is risky to use in battle, it is an extraordinarily powerful healing move. Through prolonged periods of Rest, even lost limbs can be regenerated."

"Sludge Bomb again, Muk! Then follow it up with Toxic!"

"Muuuk!" the pokemon bellowed, hurling more reeking slop all over Scizor's body.

Ash hadn't let up on the poison attacks. As Oak talked, Scizor became progressively more coated in toxic slime.

"MUK IS HAMMERING AWAY WITH MORE POISON ATTACKS! SCIZOR IS COVERED HEAD-TO-TOE IN SLUDGE, BUT IT'S NOT AFFECTING IT AT ALL! WHAT IS ASH DOING?"

Ash smirked confidently.

"Muk, Harden your right arm!"

Muk made a rumbling sound in the back of its throat as it concentrated on manipulating its own malleable form. Its arm took on a noticeable shine as the outermost layer of its body hardened into armor.

"Now, stick it into the fire!"

Muk nodded, beginning to comprehend Ash's plan at last, and it morphed its way over to one of the burning patches of ground left by Charizard's last attack.

As it thrust its slimy psuedopod into the flame, the limb immediately caught fire. The blaze spread up the surface of the arm in a second, stopping just short of the edge of the Hardened area.

Oak realized Ash's strategy immediately.

"What quick thinking!" Oak commended. "The highly toxic sludge that composes a Muk's body is also typically very flammable, a fact that makes fire attacks dangerous to most Muks. With a Hardened covering, however, the danger is reversed. Muk now has a powerful weapon against its steel and bug opponent! Not only that, but..."

"Scizor, You're in danger! Wake up, now!" Jeanette shouted, finally realizing the position she was in.

Scizor, its neural processes in near-shutdown, was incapable of hearing its trainer's commands, and remained at rest.

A droplet of slime slid from the end of its chin and fell to the ground.

"Go, Muk," Ash intoned simply. "Gunk Shot."

The Sludge Pokemon grinned wickedly with its toothless mouth, pulling back its burning right arm.

"IT'S A GUNK SHOT ATTACK!" The announcer yelled. "COMBINED WITH THAT FLAMING RIGHT ARM, IT'LL BE DEVASTATING!"

"WAKE UP, SCIZOR!"

"MUUUK!"

Muk roared, whipping its gooey arm forward and jettisoning the burning piece of its own mass directly at Scizor.

Suddenly, Scizor's eyes snapped open, finely honed reflexes operating in tandem with its newly-restored body as it brought up its right claw in a lightning-fast strike, cleaving through the flaming mass a mere moment before it would have made contact...

...to no avail.

The flaming projectile was like a clump of napalm, bursting on contact with Scizor's claw and scattering into a hundred fiery bits, peppering Scizor's entire body and setting the muck coating its skin ablaze.

It was like an explosion. Scizor's entire body went up in flames almost instantaneously. A noxious scent filled the air as the raging chemical fire only increased in size. Scizor screeched in pain, buzzing its wings and waving its arms wildly, scattering burning bits of slime over the field.

"SCIZOR!" Jeanette screamed in horror, quickly pulling out her Poke Ball. "RETURN!"

The recall beam from the Poke Ball pierced through the flames, hitting Scizor and pulling it back into the confines of the sphere, leaving behind the flaming, toxic goo that had coated it.

"Jeanette has recalled Scizor! Muk wins the battle!"

"AND ITS ANOTHER SPECTACULAR WIN FOR YOUNG KETCHUM! MUK'S FIRE-POWERED POISON ASSAULT HAS FORCED JEANETTE TO RECALL SCIZOR! NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL STRATEGY!"

---

Back in the locker room, Croket hummed introspectively, smiling a bit at he watched the conclusion of Muk's battle.

"Perhaps there's more to that boy than meets the eye..." he murmured to himself.

Looking over to his left, he realized, with no small amount of surprise, that the child from before was no longer present. The fact that Croket himself been distracted enough by that "Ash" boy's battle to disregard what was going on around him was a testament to the child's greatness... there were few men on Earth who could hold his attention so well.

Turning back toward the television, he began watching the match with renewed interest.

---

"DESPITE LACKING ANOTHER FIRE-TYPE, ASH HAS MANAGED TO RETAIN A COMPLETE TYPE ADVANTAGE! WITH ONLY HALF HER TEAM REMAINING, HOW WILL JEANETTE COMBAT MUK'S TOXIC FIREPOWER?!"

Looking out over the field at her opponent, the kimono-wearing girl considered her options. More of the field was covered in flame than ever before, thanks to Muk's napalmic sludge, and the raging chemical fires showed no signs of going out. She had no more pokemon capable of going head-to-head with Muk's new, fiery power, and the burning field placed her at an even greater disadvantage.

"_I've got no choice..._" Jeanette thought to herself. "_I've got to use him now, or I'll lose for sure._"

Reaching into her sash, she pulled out another Poke Ball and threw it into the field.

"Let's win this together, Kusanagi!"

As the light from the pokeball's release faded, and the orb returned to Jeanette's hand, a lean, reptillian form came into view. The light green pokemon stood on lithe, muscular hind legs, balanced by a huge tail resembling a fern. Its lanky forearms bore sharp, organic blades seemingly made of large leaves. Six bulbous, yellow seeds lined its spine, three on each side.

A sceptile.

Ash's surprise was apparent. Hoenn pokemon were extraordinarily uncommon in the mainland regions, and for a Kanto trainer like Jeanette to have a rare one like sceptile was practically unheard of.

"AND IT APPEARS TO BE JEANETTE'S TURN TO MAKE A POOR DECISION, AS SHE CHOOSES SCEPTILE, A GRASS TYPE FROM THE HOENN REGION! ALTHOUGH, AFTER THE UPSET WE'RE JUST WITNESSED, ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!"

Ash paused, Gary's voice ringing pointedly in his head.

"..._anyone who's anyone is gonna be packing a secret trump card..._"

For a split second, apprehension was visible in Ash's face, but he got over it quickly enough. Sceptile was just another grass-type, and against poison-type Muk on a flaming dirt field, it stood little chance of victory. Obviously, Jeanette was grasping at straws.

"Alright Muk, let's use Harden again! Snag some more of that fire!"

"Muuk..." Muk groaned affirmatively, hardening its outer layer yet again and scooping up more flame from a nearby burning patch.

"Another Gunk Shot!"

Once more, Muk hurled the flaming piece of its own body, throwing a fiery Gunk Shot the Sceptile's way.

"Dodge it," Jeanette commanded, "and use your Agility to get in close!"

The sceptile, Kusanagi, hopped backwards to avoid the sloppy fireball and, in a blur of motion, briefly surpassed the visible spectrum using its Agility.

"Now, Night Slash!"

Kusanagi seemed to come out of nowhere, blurring into visibility just behind Muk, its right arm already raised in preparation for a Night Slash attack, with its blades extended to their maximum length.

"Muk, Minimize, now!"

Muk reacted quickly, compacting its protean form as densely as it could, minimizing its physical profile, but...

"MUK TRIES MINIMIZE, BUT IT'S NO GOOD, AND SCEPTILE SCORES A NIGHT SLASH! ADVANTAGED THOUGH IT MAY BE IN TERMS OF TYPE, MUK CAN'T TOUCH SCEPTILE'S SPEED!"

"MUUUK!" Muk roared in pain as Kusanagi slashed deeply into its back with its arm blades.

"That move was quite effective," Professor Oak informed. "Even though a muk's gooey body absorbs most physical blows, attacks involving points or edges, such as Night Slash, have the greatest likelihood of doing real damage."

"Hold your ground, Muk! Grab it!"

"Agility, Kusanagi!"

Muk whirled around, reaching out to grab Kusanagi, but the sceptile disappeared using Agility yet again.

"Tch," Ash grit his teeth. "Too fast. Muk, get ready to move!"

"Leaf Blade, Kusanagi!"

"Muk, use Acid Armor!"

As Kusanagi swept in for another attack, Muk executed Acid Armor, liquefying itself. As Muk collapsed to the ground, the sceptile's Leaf Blade passed through its head, merely displacing a few drops of purple liquid.

"MUK HAS COMPLETELY NULLED SCEPTILE'S LEAF BLADE WITH ACID ARMOR! ASH AND MUK HAVE RENDERED SCEPTILE'S BLADE ATTACKS USELESS!"

Kusanagi, going into his swing expecting far more resistance than he got, was thrown off balance by his own momentum.

"Grab it now, Muk, and Harden!"

Reaching out, Muk grabbed the sceptile's arms in each of its own and Hardened, throughly encasing the plant reptile in its own body mass.

"Gotcha!" Ash cheered, pumping a fist. "Now pull it in and swallow it!"

"Kusanagi," Jeanette yelled, acting fast, "hit it with Solarbeam!"

The sceptile hissed, the seeds on its back beginning to glow yellow as they charged with solar energy. Its mouth opened in preparation for the attack, and the gathering energy was visible in the back of its throat.

Ash's eyes widened.

"Muk! Change of plan! Shadow Punch!"

Muk, its mouth already half-open, narrowed its eyes and extended its gooey jaw to its massive full extent as a huge, sludgy fist erupted from within its body and out of its mouth, interrupting the Solarbeam and knocking Kusanagi away.

"A RAPID EXCHANGE HAS SCEPTILE ON THE RECEIVING END OF A SHADOW PUNCH BY MUK!"

"An excellent use of Muk's protean molecular structure," Oak observed, "the ability to manifest extra limbs is a hallmark of a well-trained Muk."

Kusanagi backflipped in midair, righting itself after being knocked back by Shadow Punch and landing on its feet a few meters off.

"Kusanagi, use Leech Seed!" Jeanette commanded.

The sceptile responded with a grunt, opening its mouth and ejecting a large seed.

The Leech Seed flew across the field and hit Muk's body with a dull "splat", sticking in the syrupy mass. Almost instantly, the seed split apart, releasing a tangle of thick vines and enveloping Muk.

Just as quickly, however, the vines withered and died, victim to Muk's toxicity.

Muk made a rumbling noise in the back of its throat as it shook itself clean of the dead plant matter.

"JEANETTE ATTEMPTS A LEECH SEED ATTACK ON MUK, BUT THE PLANTS CAN'T PENETRATE ITS POISONOUS FORM!"

Jeanette smirked.

"So that's how it is... but you shouldn't underestimate us, either! Kusanagi! Let's use it! _Vulcan Senju Kannon_!"

The seeds on Kusanagi's back began to glow yet again as he leapt back a distance and reared back his head. His clawed hands bunched into fists, the lean muscles in his arms tightening with the apparent strain of the mystery attack's buildup.

"Muk!" Ash shouted. "They're doing something weird! Hit it with Gunk Shot, _now_!"

"Muuuk," groaned the Sludge Pokemon, gathering the attack in its right hand.

"Too late!" Jeanette yelled triumphantly, as Kusanagi thrust forward his head, mouth open, and released a high-speed storm of seeds, each glowing the same yellow color as those on his back. The seeds collided with Muk's body, spraying up slime and sticking deep in its toxic skin.

"That's it?" Ash queried jokingly. "A Bullet Seed?"

Jeanette chuckled.

"Not quite."

As Ash looked on, Muk spasmed suddenly, a tremor running through its entire body. A moment later, the Sludge Pokemon exploded into a mass of vines, thousands of tangled creepers eruping from its body and swallowing it up entirely in vibrant green. The toxicity of Muk's pollutant-fueled flesh was visibly affecting them, killing them off, but not fast enough.

"AN UNPRECEDENTED ATTACK!" Roared the announcer, "JEANETTE'S SCEPTILE HAS COMBINED THE BULLET SEED AND LEECH SEED ATTACKS INTO ONE! IT'S A-... A _BULLET LEECH SEED_!"

Jeanette clenched her fists, her arms shaking as she yelled up at the announcer's box.

"It's a _VULCAN SENJU KANNON, __**DAMMIT**_!"

Ash looked startled, but recovered quickly.

"Muk, can you move?"

No response. Not even a grunt. Muk was utterly immobilized by vines, and, as leech vines, each one was sapping its strength and giving more to Kusanagi. Even Muk's toxic body wasn't enough to stop the vines' growth.

"Kusanagi," Jeanette spoke to her pokemon, "all healed up?"

"Scep," responded her sceptile placidly, looking over his shoulder and giving her a "thumbs-up".

"Alright then, let's finish this! Solarbeam!"

"Scepppp..._tile_!" The Forest Pokemon screeched, letting loose the Solarbeam that had been interrupted earlier.

The attack blasted out of Kusanagi's mouth, a golden beam of light that streaked across across the field in an instant and slammed into Muk's entangled body. Ash's pokemon was thrown backwards on the tip of the beam and crashed into the wall, where it was pinned briefly by the force of the attack before the beam ceased and it slumped to the ground, fainted.

"Muk is unable to battle!" The referee called, waving his flag. "Sceptile wins the battle!"

"SOLARBEAM HITS HOME FOR THE KO, AND THE PERSISTENT MUK IS OUT OF THE BATTLE AT LAST! THIS IS ONE ORNERY LIZARD, FOLKS! HOW WILL ASH COUNTER JEANETTE'S MONSTER SCEPTILE?!"

---

"At last," remarked the elderly, bonnet-wearing woman up in the stands, "the girl is finally showing her true power. That _Senju Kannon_ is the product of months of dedication. Kusanagi will win her this match."

The giant cowboy grinned broadly.

"Jeanette is certainly strong, but that Ash boy is an excellent trainer himself. It's an even match so far; he may yet win."

"Peh. Mark my words; the end of this tourney will see that girl in Viridian."

"We shall see."

---

Back on the tournament floor, Ash was still considering his options for pokemon number four. Jeanette was proving to be far more trouble than he had anticipated. He hadn't thought he'd lose Charizard, let alone it and Muk both. With only Bulbasaur, Tauros and Pikachu left, he was out of super-effective trump cards. Pikachu's electric attacks wouldn't do any good against the sceptile, and though Tauros might be able to win on strength, it would be utterly outmanuvered, just as Muk was.

So his only choice...

"Bulbasaur! Go! Show 'em what a real grass fighter can do!"

In a cascade of white light, Ash's Bulbasaur was released onto the dirt turf.

"Bulba-_saur_!" The Seed Pokemon chanted, the desire for battle shining clearly in its large, red eyes.

Across the field, Kusanagi stood with his arms crossed, apparently not satistified with his opponent. As a fully evolved pokemon approaching six feet in height, he found the idea of fighting a bulb-backed, two-foot toad (or whatever the squat little thing was supposed to be) nothing short of beneath him.

"Sceptile!" He barked shortly. "Scep. Scep-_tile_!"

"Bulba_saur_! Bulbabulba-_saur_!" Bulbasaur responded heatedly, grinding his tiny, clawed feet into the dirt.

"IT LOOKS LIKE THESE TWO GRASS-TYPES ARE ALL READY TO MIX IT UP! THERE'S A CLEAR-CUT CONFLICT BETWEEN THESE TWO, AND IT'S ABOUT TO BE WORKED OUT ON THE BATTLEFIELD! BUT CAN ASH'S BULBASAUR OVERCOME THE DIFFERENCE IN POWER?!"

"That's the spirit, Bulbasaur!" Ash cheered his pokemon on. "Let's bring the thunder!"

"It'll take more than "thunder" to beat _us_," Jeanette taunted back. "Let's go, Kusanagi! Use X-Scissor!"

The Sceptile grunted, uncrossing its arms and dropping into a low stance before charging Bulbasaur at full speed. As it pulled in close, the leafy reptile brought its arms up in an "X" formation in front of its face as the blades of its forearms extended to their full length and began glowing a dull blueish-white color.

"JEANETTE'S SCEPTILE COMES IN FOR AN X-SCISSOR! IT'LL DO BULBASAUR SOME REAL DAMAGE IF IT CONNECTS!"

"Bulbasaur, Vine Whip Sceptile's legs! Trip it up!"

"Bul!" Bulbasaur assented, snapping out twin vines from the base of its bulb and lashing them viciously at Kusanagi's ankles.

"Jump up, now, and strike!" Jeanette countered.

On his trainer's command, Kusanagi leapt up as the vine attack swept mere centimeters below his feet and bore down on Bulbasaur, slashing forth his arm blades in a scissoring cross.

The twin slashes landed cleanly on Bulbasaur's front, but the Seed Pokemon stood strong, taking the attack head-on. The sceptile's power sent him skidding backwards, but he maintained his stance. As the dust cleared, two deep gashes were revealed on Bulbasaur's forehead, evidence of the attack's effectiveness.

"ASH TRIED VINE WHIP, BUT IT'S NOT GOOD; X-SCISSOR IS A HIT! BULBASAUR IS KNOCKED BACK, BUT SEEMS TO HAVE ESCAPED ANY SERIOUS DAMAGE! IT'S ONE TOUGH GRASS-TYPE!"

"Bulbasaur!" Ash called. "You all right?"

"_Bulba-saur_!" His pokemon confirmed through gritted teeth, not taking his eyes off his opponent.

"Okay then! Let's counterattack with Razor Leaf!"

Bulbasaur nodded with a gruff bark, leaping backwards for distance and summoning a whirlwind of razor-edged leaves from the base of his bulb before hurling them at his opponent. The leaf attack sailed through the air with great speed, but another Agility from Kusanagi allowed the Forest Pokemon to escape and once again close the distance

"Now, Kusanagi," Jeanette called, "use Slam!"

Pivoting his body on one leg, the sceptile whipped his giant, fernlike tail around his body for momentum, then brought it crashing down on Bulbasaur's back. The force of the blow knocked Bulbasaur's legs out from underneath him, and he was flattened against the ground.

"BULBASAUR IS BEING OVERWHELMED! IN THIS GRASS BATTLE, THE FULLY EVOLVED SCEPTILE IS DOMINATING THE TINY BULBASAUR WITH SPEED AND POWER! IT'S GOT BULBASAUR PINNED UNDER ITS TAIL AFTER THAT CRUSHING SLAM ATTACK!"

Ash didn't miss a beat. Of all his pokemon's personalities, Bulbasaur's tenacious and belligerent mindset was the one Ash meshed best with in combat. One might say that their natural "battle rhythms" matched, and it showed in the way the two fought together. It was why Bulbasaur could often act almost independently of Ash's commands, why Ash could easily and fluidly manipulate Bulbasaur's attacks into combos, and, in times like this one, know that Bulbasaur wanted nothing more than to show Kusanagi who was boss. He was small, unevolved, and nowhere near Ash's strongest battler, but he was certainly one of his best.

Ash grinned. The tide would turn here.

"Bulbasaur! Use Dig!"

"Bul-BA!" The Seed Pokemon affirmed, seeming to perk up after hearing this particular command from its trainer.

Planting his front claws firmly on the ground, Bulbasaur began swiping furiously at the dirt turf, and in seconds, his entire body disappeared underground.

"THIS IS UNUSUAL! ASH'S BULBASAUR HAS JUST BURROWED BELOW GROUND! PROFESSOR, ISN'T BULBASAUR NORMALLY INCAPABLE OF PERFORMING SUCH A FEAT?!"

"Yes," Oak confirmed, "this bulbasaur is unique. It alone is capable of using the Dig technique, which is typically unavailable to its evolutionary line. As of this point in time, it is the _only_ recorded instance of a Digging bulbasaur. A rare specimen indeed."

"Nice trick," Jeanette complimented. She'd meant it to be taunting, but she couldn't hide a tinge of earnest envy. "But that alone won't beat us! Kusanagi, use Detect!"

Closing his glossy yellow eyes, Kusanagi relaxed his body and dropped into a kneeling crouch, one clawed, green hand flat against the turf.

A moment later, the Sceptile's eyes opened, and they darted off to his right, fixing on a patch of ground several meters away.

On that exact spot, Bulbasaur erupted from the ground in a spray of dirt.

"Quick Attack, Kusanagi!" Jeanette yelled.

"Burrow again!" Ash retorted.

Kusanagi darted in Bulbsaur's direction at high speed, but the seed-dino was faster, leaping back into the hole it had just come out of and tunneling off.

"ASH IS USING DIG TO ESCAPE SCEPTILE'S ATTACKS! IT'LL KEEP BULBASAUR SAFE, BUT JEANETTE WON'T GIVE HIM THE TIME TO RETALIATE! HOW LONG CAN BULBASAUR STAY ON THE RUN?! REMEMBER FOLKS, BY LEAGUE RULES, A BURROWING POKEMON CAN ONLY STAY UNDERGROUND FOR FIFTEEN SECONDS AT A TIME!"

As the battle wore on, the chain continued, Bulbasaur burrowing around the field, popping up all over the field and disappearing back underground before Kusanagi could strike. A few minutes later, the field was riddled with holes. Jeanette had stopped issuing commands altogether, choosing to sit and wait rather than waste Kusanagi's energy on pointless attacks.

Bulbasaur surfaced once more. The constant digging was clearly taking its toll on his stamina. The Seed Pokemon was panting heavily, sweat and dirt plastered thickly across his brow.

Ash gave no command.

A full ten seconds passed, as both pokemon stared each other down, their trainers each seemingly waiting for their foe to call out an order.

Then, simultaneously, Ash and Bulbasaur's faces broke into fierce, manic grins.

The stage was set.

"This is it!" Ash roared, snapping out an arm to point across the field. "Take him!"

"Bul!" Bulbasaur nodded.

Suddenly, twin vines came out of nowhere behind Kusanagi, lashing themselves around his shoulders and snapping into taut lines.

Kusanagi struggled against the vines' hold, tugging mightily against his verdant restraints, but to no avail.

"IN WHAT APPEARS TO BE A PREMEDITATED STRATEGY, BULBASAUR, SEEMINGLY UNCOMMANDED, HAS SNUCK A VINE WHIP THROUGH ITS OWN NETWORK OF TUNNELS, CATCHING SCEPTILE AND JEANETTE OFF-GUARD! IT'S A BRILLIANT AND CALCULATING OFFENSE DISGUISED AS A HASTY DEFENSE... GENIUS!"

Ash's smile looked a hair's breadth from splitting his head in two. New moves. New tactics. All being put to use. All _working_. These past few months back in Pallet with Gary were even more of a blessing than he ever could have hoped. It seemed as though he'd improved lightyears, and in less time than ever. Not having to worry about badges, or wild encounters, or even having enough money to eat was a huge load off his back, and allowed him to concentrate all of his energy on training. It had paid off.

"This show's over! Bulbasaur, start charging Solarbeam!"

"Bul-ba!"

As the Seed Pokemon concentrated, tiny, shining particles seemed to gather at the tip of his bulb.

"Kusanagi," Jeanette commanded, "use Leaf Blade to cut those vines!"

"Sceptile!"

Kusanagi turned, his blades extending as he moved to cut the vine ensnaring his left arm.

"Bulbasaur, pull 'em tight, then go on under!"

Bulbasaur merely grunted in response, reacting quickly to the sceptile's move to cut his vines. As Kusanagi shifted his feet for better positioning, Bulbasaur pulled in both vines sharply, yanking the sceptile backwards and off his feet. The vines kept retracting until Kusanagi was pinned on his back over the hole in the ground, his body too large to fit through the comparatively small space. He struggled, attempting to rise, but the vines held him firmly to the floor.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Bulbasaur leapt back into his tunnel, ephemeral light gently flowing about his bulb. Solarbeam was fully charged.

"You've got to get up," Jeanette implored her pokemon. "Try to roll over to your stomach, then get to your feet!"

"Sceeeep..." Kusanagi tensed, crossing his right arm over his chest and pulling hard in a final attempt to extricate himself from his predicament.

"SCEPTILE IS PINNED DOWN! IT'S DOING ITS BEST TO FIGHT, BUT THE SITUATION LOOKS GRIM! BULBASAUR SEEMS TO BE MOVING IN FOR THE KILL; IT'S SOMEWHERE BENEATH SCEPTILE WITH A SOLARBEAM SET IN THE CHAMBER!"

"Sceeep-_tile_!"

With Herculean effort, Kusanagi jerked his right shoulder across his chest will all his might, finally flipping over to his belly.

"Yes!" Cheered Jeanette. "Now get up and-!"

A blinding flash of light burst from the hole beneath Kusanagi, illuminating the Forest Pokemon in brightest white. As the sceptile himself froze in shock, so did his trainer, and in a moment, the battle's outcome was decided.

The vines retreated from Kusanagi's arms, and the Solarbeam crashed into the grass pokemon's stomach, simultaneously winding the reptile and sending him hurtling up into the air. Though the sceptile was largely protected from Solarbeam's typically overpowering radiation by his aforementioned typing, the physical impact of the attack still hit with full force, and he screeched in pain as he was tossed up into the sky.

Jeanette swore loudly.

"Kusanagi! Right yourself, quickly!"

Her pokemon growled through his teeth as he forced himself to fight through the pain and jerked himself sharply around in midair using his arm blades for extra manuverability.

"Good work! Now dive down on it!"

"BULBASAUR'S SOLARBEAM KNOCKS SCEPTILE INTO THE AIR, BUT IT'S NOT OUT OF THE FIGHT YET! IT'S STREAMLINED ITSELF AND IS DIVING AT BULBASAUR FOR AN ATTACK OF ITS OWN! IT'S ABOUT THIRTY FEET UP IN THE AIR; ANY BLOW LANDED FROM THAT DROP WILL HIT WITH MASSIVE MOMENTUM!"

"This next series of attacks," Oak commented, "will end the battle. I'm sure of it."

"Get 'im with Razor Leaf, Bulbasaur!"

"Bulba_saur_!" Bulbasaur huffed in response, hurling a wave of knifelike leaves up at Kusanagi.

"Use Detect and cut them down with Leaf Blade!" Countered Jeanette.

"Scep!" The Forest Pokemon barked affirmatively, his eyes taking on a shine as he began Detect. As the leaves came close, he struck with frightening precision, cleaving each leaf in two with calcuated blows from his arm blades. A mere ten feet away and closing in, Kusanagi slashed through the final few leaves and...

"Now!" Ash yelled, sweeping his arm through the air before him.

Bulbasaur nodded.

There was a sharp crack as another Vine Whip slashed up toward Kusanagi, the organic lashes wrapping themselves around the lizard's forearms before Jeanette could react.

"Pull yourself into it and hit 'em with Take Down, but don't lose your grip!"

"Bul!" Bulbasaur chanted, pulling in his vines as hard and as fast as he could. In an instant, the smaller grass-type was flying off the ground, Kusanagi's greater weight allowing Bulbasaur to use his Vine Whip to pull himself up to meet the sceptile in midair.

A loud crack sounded through the arena as the Take Down hit home, its power assisted by both Bulbasaur's Vine Whip and gravity's pull on Kusanagi. The blow's recoil stunned even Bulbasaur itself, but his opponent was knocked senseless.

True to form, the announcer erupted into a shouting fury.

"A BRILLIANTLY EXECUTED COMBO! I'M ALMOST AT A LOSS TO DESCRIBE IT! ASH HAS USED BULBASAUR'S RAZOR LEAF AS A FEINT, GOADING HER INTO WASTING SCEPTILE'S DETECT AND OPENING SCEPTILE UP FOR A VINE WHIP AND TAKE DOWN COMBINATION! BULBASAUR IS STILL CLINGING ONTO SCEPTILE WITH VINE WHIP- WHAT'S ASH UP TO?!"

"Now, give 'em some slack," Ash continued, "and jump off of it!"

Bulbasaur obeyed, letting out the vines he'd retracted once more, and pushed off of Kusanagi's chest with all four feet, sending the Forest Pokemon careening the last few feet to the ground and propelling himself back up into the air.

"Pull in again!" Ash roared. "And Tackle!"

"Bullllllllll-BA!" Bulbasaur crowed triumphantly, rocketing back down toward the sceptile with vine-assisted momentum, the power of gravity once more on his side.

He plowed into Kusanagi's stomach with a crash, throwing up a storm of dust from the dirt field with the impact.

"Kusanagi!" Jeanette yelled into the dusty cloud. "Are you alright?!"

No answer.

Ash stood silent, looking out into the field.

There was a tense period of seconds as the entire stadium waited for the dust to settle, then, finally, visibility returned. Bulbasaur came into view first, its red eyes shining happily as it flashed a grin Ash's way. The battered, green form of Kusanagi lay under its four clawed feet.

There was no doubt in the referee's mind as he made the call.

"Sceptile is unable to battle! Bulbasaur is the winner!"

The entire stadium erupted into cheers, many onlookers rising from their seats with excitement. The stands were alive with waving arms and pumping fists. Even the end of Charizard's last match couldn't compare. This was a true underdog win, a win with spirit. To those in the audience, those whose pokemon dreams lived on only in their hearts, this was the ultimate victory. The tumultuous symphony of cheering fans drowned out even the announcer's ultra-amplified voice as he narrarated the end of the battle.

---

Up in the stands, the mystery figures looked down upon the action below, not rising, not cheering, but still visibly taken aback.

"My, my," remarked the sunglasses man, crossing his arms, "that was a bit of a surprise ending."

The vacationer nodded, mimicking his partner's pose.

"I had expected a good fight from that bulbasaur; his prior battles were a thing to behold, but until the very end, I had never expected him to win. That Ash... he's got a way with poison-types..."

---

"So..." The muscular cowpoke intoned with a sly smile,"I seem to recall you saying something about-"

"Shut up," the old woman interrupted irritably.

---

Back on the field, Ash and Bulbasaur basked in the adulation of their fans, seemingly unable to do anything but smile. For the first time in his pokemon career, Ash felt as though he had truly accomplished something, as though at long last, the crowd was cheering for him and not for the spectacle of battle itself.

Jeanette, too, seemed distant, but hers was a far different look from Ash's. The young woman looked pensive, not exactly worried, but still somehow troubled.

But while the two trainers were lost in their own musings, time went on, and the referee was calling for the next battle to begin.

"Red trainer, select your next pokemon!"

Jeanette started, shocked out of her contemplative trance.

"...Yes..."

She began reaching into her sash, then paused suddenly, her hand halfway to her next Poke Ball. She blinked, her eyes drifting astray, her gaze dipping toward the ground to her left as her head bowed ever so slightly. Holding this pose, she allowed several seconds to pass.

"Red trainer," the ref repeated, "please select your pokemon!"

As if this last call from the referee had finalized her decision, Jeanette looked up, the odd, doubting look at last gone from her eyes. Her hand fell back to her side as she turned toward the League official and spoke clearly:

"I, Jeanette Fisher, red trainer, hereby resign from this match!"

"I see... Well then... _The red trainer, Jeanette Fisher, elects to resign_," the man spoke into his headset, recording the exchange. "Red trainer, this is your final opportunity to retract your decision. Are you certain you wish to resign?"

"Yes." Jeanette spoke firmly and without hesitation, but her green eyes betrayed a hint of regret, nonetheless.

Murmurs ran through the stands. What the heck was going on? Why wasn't the next battle starting? Did something happen? Everything on the field looked fine...

More than a minute passed, then, finally, the announcer's voice boomed throughout the stadium bowl.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! I HAVE JUST RECIEVED WORD FROM THE REFEREE THAT JEANETTE FISHER HAS CONCEDED! THIS MATCH'S WINNER IS ASH KETCHUM OF PALLET TOWN!

AS A VICTOR IN THE SEMIFINAL ROUND, HE WILL GO ON TO PARTICIPATE IN TOMORROW'S FINAL MATCH! GOOD LUCK, ASH!"

"Yes," Professor Oak's voice rang cheerily through the loudspeakers, "best of luck, indeed!"

Applause rang from the stands, but there were jeers and catcalls mixed in as well. _The_ match of the tourney thus far had just come to a throughly unsatisfying and anticlimactic end, and many in the audience couldn't help but feel cheated. Tickets to any of the final few matches could hardly be considered cheap, and for a semifinalist to resign mid-match was practically unheard-of. There wasn't going to be a riot, but there wasn't going to be a standing ovation, either.

Down on the field, Jeanette's resignation had gone over even worse. Ash had recalled Bulbasaur, and was stomping his way across the charred, blasted field in nothing short of a fury.

"Hey!" he barked angrily at Jeanette. "HEY! Over here!"

Jeanette, in conversation with the referee, excused herself and turned towards the fuming Ash, who had stopped several feet away and was now glaring at her.

"Yes?" The forest trainer asked placidly. "What is it?"

"You withdrawing, that's _what it is_!" Ash shot back. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Resigning." Jeanette responded simply, looking rather surprised. "Dropping out? Acknowledging you as the victor? This is a _good_ thing for you, you know."

"Yeah, I do, but that's not the point! What about you? What about them?" Ash made a sweeping gesture with his arms, indicating the onlookers in the stands. "What about your _pokemon_? They fought with everything they had so that you might win; they gave it their all! Who do you think you are to make everything they did meaningless?! And your pokemon who didn't fight! How do you think it makes them feel, that you didn't think them worthy enough to battle?! What gives you the right?!"

"PI-pikapi!" Pikachu agreed, leaping up onto Ash's shoulder. He seemed almost upset that he'd missed a chance to battle.

To Ash's surprise, Jeanette smiled. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have affected him, but there was something odd about this smile, thin and demure, showing no teeth. For whatever reason, he felt utterly silenced. Then she spoke.

"Ash, you really are a great trainer, aren't you? To put my pokemon's feelings above your own victory... there aren't many people who would do such things, not many at all, even amongst the elites."

Ash could feel his cheeks burn; he was a sucker for flattery, but he recovered.

"Don't dodge the question," he rebounded.

"I'm not. My pokemon are my closest friends, Ash. I would never have resigned if I thought it would hurt them. They're warriors, the same as me, and it's a hallmark of an true warrior never to fight a battle one has already lost."

"You didn't 'already lose'! If you'd 'already lost', you wouldn't have to _resign_, would you?" Ash interrupted.

"It's another hallmark of a true warrior to be able to recognize the difference between a hard fight and a lost cause," Jeanette retorted. "Kusanagi, my sceptile, is fully evolved and my strongest pokemon; I've spent the last two-and-a-half years training him, both in pokemon techniques and the human martial arts. He can face a machamp equally in physical combat, but you and your bulbasaur defeated him in an even match. I myself trained harder than ever after I lost to you four years ago, and it still wasn't enough. I am strong, and my pokemon are strong, but we know when we're beat. Bellsprout and heracross will understand why they couldn't fight today."

"But how do you know?" Ash pressed on, now more confused than angry. "What makes you think you understand your pokemon's feelings so completely?"

The girl shrugged, the silky fabric of her kimono rippling like water around her shoulders.

"I just do." She said simply. "Even though I can't speak with my pokemon, through fighting and learning together, we somehow develop a deeper understanding of each other. It's difficult to explain, but I think it's something that happens to every great trainer over time. I'm sure it'll happen to you too; maybe it already has."

Ash thought back to his battle with Bulbasaur, about how the two of them moved so easily in combat, almost as if they could read each other's minds. He thought of Pikachu, his best friend, and the relationship that they shared, despite not being able to talk to each other directly. He thought of Charizard, fighting with everything he had, determined to win at all costs, and the insane speech that had spilled, almost spontaneously, from his own lips as the Flame Pokemon executed its final attack, and he found that he knew exactly what Jeanette was talking about; he'd just never bothered to think about it before.

Jeanette caught the look in Ash's eyes.

"It seems it has."

"Yeah, I guess so," Ash grinned, suddenly a bit embarrassed about his earlier outburst. "...Sorry I yelled; I suppose I just didn't get you at the time. _Our_ mutual understanding," he said, scratching Pikachu under his chin, "is just a little different from yours. To us, there _are_ no 'lost causes'. We're determined to fight to the end, win or lose, and if we do lose, at least we know we gave it our all."

The dark-haired girl nodded.

"That explains a lot," she giggled. "Your charizard nearly gave me a heart attack, getting up all of a sudden like that."

Ash couldn't help laughing as well.

"He's a bit of a beast, isn't he? He's come close to roasting _me_ alive more than once."

Their laughter continued for a moment, before Ash stopped, and Jeanette followed. She smiled that odd smile of hers again, extending a pale hand.

"I hope we can battle again, Ash."

Ash grasped and shook it, smirking mischeviously.

"Best two out of three?"

Jeanette laughed, one hand held daintily in front of her mouth.

"You're terrible."

"All right, all right," interrupted the referee, stepping between the two trainers, "that was all very inspiring, but we need to begin preparations for the next match. Please return to your respective locker areas."

"I see," Jeanette relented. "I'll be cheering for you in the final match, Ash," she said over her shoulder as she turned toward the red area locker entrance. "Good luck, and don't make me look bad!"

She winked, and with that last parting shot, walked off toward the lockers.

After staring at Jeanette's back for a moment, Ash did the same.

---

Ash entered the locker room lost in his own thoughts once more. The connection between trainer and pokemon... He'd always been cogniscent of it, experienced it, used it to his advantage... but never truly _thought_ about it. Jeanette's words had awakened him to a whole new aspect of being a pokemon trainer, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with the realization.

An unfamiliar voice broke him from his musings.

"A commendable performance," Croket applauded Ash, rising from his bench seat. Standing at his full height, he was a full two heads taller than the boy. "Your name is Ash, correct?"

"Y-yes," Ash stammered, rather cowed by the imposing man. "That's me. And thank you." He was suddenly very aware of the fact that Gary was no longer present in the locker room.

"My name is Alan Croket," the woollen-suited man intoned coolly, offering a large, finely manicured hand. "I am the number three competitor in the semifinals."

"I know," Ash responded, shaking hands with Croket, "I read your profile on the League Database; you're a really good trainer."

Croket chuckled. Even his laugh seemed calculated and controlled.

"So they say, but a trainer is only as good as the pokemon he commands. I owe my victories to my companions."

Ash immediately felt more at ease. Anyone with that kind of respect for their pokemon couldn't be all bad, no matter how intimidating they looked.

"Anyhow," Croket continued, "I wanted to propose to you a little deal. The organization that I lead is in dire need of talented young trainers such as yourself. Should you have some free time, might you be interested in doing some work for me? You would be paid handsomely, of course."

"Maybe," Ash shrugged. "What kind of work?"

"Well-," Croket began before the PA system cut him off with a loud beep, and an almost robotically neutral female voice wafted through the wall-mounted speakers and into the two trainers' ears.

"_Alan Croket, please report to the field; your match will commence in five minutes. Alan Croket to the field, please_."

"And that," Croket said apologetically, "is my cue. Please, contact me in my dormitory sometime within the next two days if you are interested. Just dial the number for building number five- it should be listed on the phone in your room- and ask them to connect you to room one-seventeen."

"...Okay." Ash responded, nodding uncertainly.

"Alright then. Good meeting you," Croket finished. He walked past Ash, and off toward the field entrance, patting the boy on the shoulder as he passed.

"What a weird guy..." Ash muttered once Croket was out of earshot.

"Who?" Asked a voice behind him.

Ash turned to find Gary standing the doorway.

"That Croket guy," Ash said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his vest. "Where'd you go?"

"Just makin' some calls," Gary smirked. "C'mon, I've got a surprise for ya."

---

By the time the pair of boys stepped through one of the many archways along the outer wall of Stadium 3, a heated debate had broken out between the two of them.

"She's a _seven_. Eight at best," Gary drawled.

"You didn't see her in person! She's a nine, at least!"

"A kimono? Who the heck wears a kimono in thisday and age? You're just a sucker for green eyes."

"Who cares? Green eyes with black hair is _fantastic-auwwp_!"

Ash made a gurgling noise as someone swooped on him from behind, binding his neck in a tight headlock choke before applying a vicious noogie to the top of his head.

"Soooo," came a familiar female voice, "fooling around behind my back, are ya?"

"_Acck!_" Ash spat, beginning to lose his vision. "_Mi...Mithty? Ithhat you?_"

"In the flesh!" Misty grinned, grinding her knuckles into Ash's skull one last time before relinqishing her death grip on his neck. "Happy to see me?"

Pikachu leapt up into the girl's arms with a "Pikaa!", clearly delighted to see her.

"I might've been..." Ash groaned, massaging his throat.

Turning to face his old friend, Ash immediately noticed two things. One, Misty had finally gotten around to changing her hair, and two, Brock was standing a few feet behind her, trying and failing at stifling laughter. Despite his aching neck, the sight of his most treasured friends brought a wide smile to Ash's face.

"Brock! You too? I thought you said-"

"I changed my mind," the eldest of the group grinned. "I couldn't stop thinking: How is Ash gonna survive out there without me?"

Brock looked the same as he always had, with his spiky brown hair and earth-toned hiking clothes. Of course, Ash hadn't expected him to have changed; he'd seen him last only about a month ago prior. Besides, Brock's consistency was part of his charm. Misty, on the other hand, he hadn't seen in over a year, and she was practically a whole new person. Her hair, as he'd noticed before, was finally out of that bushy side-ponytail she'd always kept, and now hung in a stylish bobcut that curled forward slightly at the ends. A simple, white t-shirt under her old yellow half-vest and pair of tight, worn-in jeans completed her new look. Ash was also rather irked to find that she was still slightly taller than he was.

Gary slapped Ash on the back, catching the boy between his shoulderblades and making him cringe slightly.

"_Surprise_, bud."

"It really is..." Ash mumbled hoarsely. "Misty, I thought you had gym duties?"

"I _do_," the red-haired girl said with a smirk, setting Pikachu back down, "but when Gary called and told me you'd made it into the semifinals, what was I supposed to do? No badges from Cerulean for a few days, _wah-wah_. They can deal with it."

"And Brock, what about your family? Are your parents back from Celadon already?"

The rock gym leader looked sheepish.

"No, and they think I'm still at home. I left Forrest in charge. A bit irresponsible, I know, but like Misty said: What was I supposed to do? Besides, that kid is more responsible than most adults; he can hold down the fort just fine."

"So," Gary piped up, looping an arm around Ash's neck, "whaddya_ saaaay_?"

"I'm half expecting May and Tracey to pop out of some crack in the wall and choke me out just to follow the trend, that's _what I say_."

Gary mock-pouted.

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Gary."

"So, Ash," Brock asked, "how was your match?"

"A heck of a lot tougher than I figured it'd be!" Ash exclaimed. "I never thought I'd catch this much trouble from a straight-typed team."

Misty chucked Brock on the shoulder.

"A long-awaited victory for us straight-typed trainers, eh?" She laughed, squaring her hands and pretending to read from an imaginary headline in a caricature of a male television reporter's voice. "THIS JUST IN: ASH KETCHUM ADMITS THE VALIDITY OF SOMEONE ELSE'S STRATEGY."

Brock burst out laughing again, along with Gary and Misty, and even Ash couldn't help but join in. Pikachu, yet again, seemed largely indifferent.

"Hey Ash," Misty caught the boy's attention as the laughter died down. "Who's in the other match today?"

"Some guy named Alan Croket and... Oh, shit."

"What?"

"It's Richie! I'm missing his match!"

And with that, Ash turned on his heel and practically sprinted back through the entrance arch.

"You idiot!" Gary yelled after Ash's retreating back. "It's only been like, ten minutes! You don't have to run! ...Damn." He turned back toward Misty and Brock. "Wait here, guys, I'll go find him."

---

In moments, Gary was back outside the green area lockers, relatively certain Ash was inside. Even from through the door, he could hear snippets of the announcer's booming voice.

"_-solutely astounding... shortest mat-... league history... -othing else like it... alakazam... clean sweep...-ix to zero... tyranitar crush- ... ... -ikachu not even... no contest f-... phenomenal..."_

As he stepped through the door, he saw Ash immediately, watching the same flat-panel television that Gary himself had watched the first match on. Oddly for the boy, he sat in utter silence, not so much as a cheer escaping his lips. Gary was about remark sarcastially on Ash's newfound ability to quiet himself occasionally when he saw what was happening on the TV screen.

The camera views were switching constantly; clearly, there was not a battle going on right now. The view changed quickly between four shots: The first was the crowd, cheering madly, as usual. The second was Croket, his thick arms crossed over his chest, his powerful features forming a understated smile of satisfaction. The third was Richie, on his knees in the dirt, his head bowed. Tears fell freely from beneath the brim of his cap.

The final shot was a full panoramic view of the field. On the rough dirt stood Croket's famed alakazam, utterly unscathed, clutching a spoon in each hand and crossing its arms in a mimicry of Croket's pose. Its ochre moustache twitched slightly as it surveyed its fallen opponent.

Opposite alakazam, unconscious on the scorched, pockmarked dirt, lay a tyranitar.

Clearly, Richie's "ace in the hole" had not worked out as he had hoped, and his mighty powerhouse had been swatted aside with ease by Croket's lead battler.

High above the field, the JumboTron screen displayed the final match score: zero to six. Alakazam had downed each and every one of Richie's pokemon without any visible effort in what the announcer was howling was the shortest full match in Indigo League history, at _four minutes and forty-two seconds_.

Richie had lost. _Badly_.

---


	4. Chapter 3: Against the Immortal

_A Note (12/16/08):_

Lordy. I almost feel bad calling this a chapter after the monster that was number two. It's more a precursor to chapter four than anything, here to pass the time until I finish the next installment, the first draft of which is about 75% complete, by my estimate. Thus far, though, I hate it to death and beyond. It'll take some time before it's finished, and even more until I can rework it into something I'm at least somewhat satisfied with.

Not to fret, though; it'll be up soon enough. If there's anyone I know I can satisfy, it's myself.

- _Boss Coffee_

**Chapter 3: Against the Immor(t)al**

There was a veritable war room gathered in Ash Ketchum's tiny dormitory. Two skilled trainers, two pokemon Gym Leaders, the world's leading authority in pokemon research, his grandson, and his oldest partner all crowded in the pale white confines of the cheap lodging. Oh, and two pikachu. We can't forget them.

Ash sighed deeply, his head resting against the wall next to his bed as he sat at the foot.

"I can't win. I can't. There's no way."

"You have to!" Richie countered vehemently, throwing himself onto the bed to Ash's right. "You can't just give up after coming this far! It's the final match!"

"He's right, ya know," Gary said dully, leaning back against the the faux-wood headboard, an oddly distant expression on his face.

"Well what else can I do?!" Ash asked angrily. "This guy's a monster!"

"There is no such thing, young man," intoned the stately Professor Rowan, sitting at the small table, "as an invincible trainer. There is _always _a path to victory, even if it is not readily apparent. What do you think, Sam?"

"I agree wholeheartedly," Professor Oak affirmed from across the table. "I observed Mr. Croket's entire match, and while he is assuredly a top-knotch trainer, he is not unbeatable."

"We only saw one of his pokemon, though..." Richie said worriedly, shifting uncomfortably. "Even if Ash can take down alakazam, there could be five more just like it waiting in the wings."

"Well, there's that umbreon, for one," Brock commented from his seat on the floor, poring over several sheets of paper he'd printed out from Croket's League profile. "And it only serves to make alakazam more dangerous, from what I can see here. The final round allows substitutions at will, and judging from these sheets, Croket will take full advantage of that."

"Erm, Gary," Professor Oak propositioned his grandson, "you're the strategist here. How would you counter this pair?"

For seconds, Gary said nothing, just staring blankly across the room.

"...I wouldn't," he said finally. "I couldn't. No matter how smart I fought, I don't think I could beat this guy."

"Well, that's not the attitude to have, my boy!" Rowan crowed. "You've always struck me as such a go-getter. What's come over you?"

"Nothing," Ash muttered. "Nothing's 'come over him'. He's just come to the same realization I have: Croket is way too strong."

Gary shot Ash a covert look that made it clear that that wasn't what he'd meant, but said nothing further. Then...

"_What the hell's the matter with you, Ash?!_"

Everyone jumped at the sound of Misty's piercing shout. The girl looked positively livid as she tromped across the four feet of floor space between her and the bed before bending over at the waist to look Ash in the eye. As he tried and failed to recoil from his friend's fierce gaze, Ash could've sworn he could see fire in her clear, green eyes.

"What _happened_ to you?" Misty roared in Ash's face. "Where's that devil-may-care attitude that used to annoy me so much? I'd just started to come to terms with it; don't tell me it's gone already! You should be bugging the crap out of all of us with your cocky bullshit, not moping around on your bed like some half-dead magikarp! BE THE BEST. BE THE BEST. POKEMON MASTER. BLAH BLAH BLAH. What happened to_ that_, huh?!"

For several seconds, total silence reigned in the small room as everyone stared at Misty like she had three heads. Then, suddenly, the lull ended as an odd buzzing permeated the void, and it took everyone a moment to realized the noise was coming from Rowan.

His moustache was vibrating.

The noise increased to a crescendo, until at long last the elderly professor gave in to his funny bone and broke out into a peal of laughter, a deep, baritone guffaw that seemed both perfectly natural and horrifyingly absurd coming from the mouth of the regal-looking Rowan.

In natural order, Oak fell next, his own light chuckle joining his friend's booming laugh, and the rest of the room's occupants followed in short order. Even Pikachu and Sparky seemed to join in, adding their own, pokemon equivalent of human laughter to the mix.

The laughter went on for some time, but by the time it died down, all traces of the room's former tension and gloom had died along with it.

"Thanks, Mist," Ash smiled, visibly more relaxed. "You're right. ...Even if you _are_ totally out of your mind."

Misty grinned cheekily.

"Don't worry; I'll always be there to snap you back when you go all stupid on me. ...But try not to make this a regular occurrence, okay?"

Ash cocked an eyebrow.

"You got it. I'll never not be cocky little prick again, I swear."

The two aging professors chuckled as they observed the teenagers.

"Young love is a thing to behold, eh?" Rowan whispered to Oak under his breath.

"Now, John," Oak chided jokingly, "don't give them a hard time."

"_I can hear you, you know_," Ash and Misty announced simultaneously.

And with that, the group meeting quickly dissolved into casual conversation, dividing naturally into two groups. Oak, Rowan and Gary, sitting around the table, began discussing the subjects of their respective research. The "younger crowd" of Ash, Misty and Richie settled into their own conversational niche: pokemon battling. Brock lingered for a while in the battling group, but soon found himself drawn to the researchers' table.

The talking went on into the night, and before anyone realized it, it was nearing midnight.

"Ah!" Gary piped up suddenly, eyes on his Poketch. "We need to pack it in. You've gotta get some sleep, Ash."

Oak stood up, and Rowan followed him.

"I need my rest as well," the elder Oak announced. "I'm up in the box again tomorrow, and I'll need eight hours at least if I'm to suffer the company of that atrocious announcer."

"Hm. I wish I had such an excuse," Rowan joked. "Alas, I'm simply old, and need my sleep."

"Well, then join me in the box tomorrow, why don't you? By Arceus, I could use the company..."

"We should go too," Brock said, tapping Misty on the shoulder.

"Where are you guys staying?" Ash asked him.

"As Gym Leaders, we get all kinds of perks here," Brock explained, "including free lodging in the Village."

"Our rooms're way nicer than yours, too," Misty taunted.

Ash made a dismissive noise.

"That's not saying much. You couldn't find a worse room than this in a prison."

Amidst laughter, his guests said their goodbyes and filed out of the room, Gary, the last of them, closing the door behind him.

Ash got up to turn off the overhead light and tossed himself limply back onto his bed, still very much awake. Pikachu hopped up beside him, curling into his favorite sleeping position at Ash's side, and the boy stroked his friend's head absentmindedly as he relived the past day in his head.

The battle... Jeanette's words... Brock and Misty coming in out of the blue... Croket's incredible battle prowess... Misty's yelling... It all seemed rather crazy, but in the visceral soup of his ever-random thoughts, it was all starting to come together.

Ever since the beginning of his journey, he'd done his best to be the best, and he knew it, but even as he fought and trained and connected with his pokemon, he'd never bothered to take a step back and examine exactly what it was that he was _doing_. It worked, and that had been enough for him, but more and more, as of late, he'd found that just sprinting ahead blind was no longer enough. Ever since his first battle with Brandon back during Battle Frontier, he'd felt the burning need to look back on his journeys and experiences thus far and try to understand why he'd made it as far as he did. As much as he wanted to believe that he was special, as much as he wanted to believe that he was destined to be the best, he knew that there was something else empowering him and his pokemon that was, so far, beyond his understanding. In the few days before his match with Jeanette, he'd felt it eating at him, his desire to know, and the empty feeling he felt from _not_ knowing. Not being cognizant of the source of one's own strength was a scary thing. Richie had given him enough of a reprieve to win the Jeanette match, but the urge had returned the second he'd witnessed the final moments of Croket's victory over tyranitar.

Luckily, Misty had been there to trigger the beginnings of an epiphany. Her outburst had caused Ash to recall a number of similar events in the recent past. Gary, psychoanalyzing him back in the lab the previous week, Jeanette, preaching on communication and understanding between trainer and pokemon, and Misty herself, yelling her head off about how he'd lost his way... As their words combined into one, cohesive thought in Ash's head, he realized that they'd all understood, consciously or unconsciously, the source of his strength better than he himself ever had. But now, he thought, a smile coming to his face, he was beginning to understand as well.

As he felt his eyelids beginning to droop, Ash felt unusually content. He felt the gentle, reassuring push of Pikachu's breathing against his side, and felt more comforted by it than ever before. As he nodded off, words drifted almost unconsciously from his lips.

"Thanks, guys," he whispered to the dark. "I'll win tomorrow for sure."

---

On the other side of Trainers' Village, in building number five, room one-seventeen, the man known as Alan Croket was sitting at the tiny table in his own cramped quarters. The small overhead light was off, leaving the dormitory lit solely by the pale moon. His woolen jacket hung limply over the chair's back, but his black tie remained noose-tight around his neck.

Across the table, back against the room's only window, sat the shadowed figure of what appeared to be a young man, his elbows on the table and his fingers steepled before his darkened face.

He shifted his hands, grasping a silver cuff link on the left wrist of his dress shirt in long fingers. He twisted it in an casual manner - clearly a habit.

Croket frowned.

"Don't you ever switch off, Marco?"

"Don't you ever turn the lights on?" The young man replied icily.

"My apologies. I'm simply accustomed to holding meetings in the dark."

The twisting continued as Marco spoke:

"I trust everything is prepared, then?"

"Of course. The stage is set, and the players have all mastered their respective parts. Everything should go off without a hitch."

"Should? _Should_ is not acceptable. What is the problem?"

Croket chuckled darkly.

"You sound just like your father, I wish he could see you."

"I do not wish to hear of my erstwhile _father_. How many times must I stress this? Now... _What_. _Is_. The _p__roblem_?"

"I assume that you know of the Elites' presence."

"Of course. A new development, I trust, as I was informed only yesterday."

"Well? Does it not worry you?"

"They alone are nothing we cannot handle," Marco intoned, rising from his chair and retrieving a black vest from its back. "Should a true difficulty arise, I trust you to handle it. Good night."

With those parting words, the young man crossed the room and made his exit.

As the door clicked shut, Croket sighed, pulling a silver tube from his breast pocket. There was a pronounced sucking noise as he removed the tube's cap, breaking the airtight seal.

With a '_chink_' of flint being struck, he lit his cigar and slumped slightly in his chair, exhaling a thick plume of bluish smoke.

"_Ah,_"he sighed, a bemused expression on his face, "_the impertinence of youth..._"

---

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS IS IT: THE FINAL MATCH OF THIS YEAR'S INDIGO CONFERENCE TOURNAMENT! HERE ARE YOUR FINALISTS! THE RED TRAINER- ALAN CROKET OF RAFFELESIA CITY!"

The perpetually calm Croket entered the stadium amidst uproarious cheers. Yesterday's clean sweep had elevated him from "skilled trainer" to "living legend" in the eyes of the fans.

"...AND THE GREEN TRAINER- ASH KETCHUM OF PALLET TOWN!"

Surprisingly enough, as Ash and Pikachu stepped out onto the field, the applause was just as great, if not greater than it had been for Croket. He was the underdog, and Kanto's native son, and that alone was enough to endear him to those in the audience. Though they cheered heartily for Croket, their souls lay with Ash. It was his victory today that they truly desired.

As the two trainers took their respective places at opposite sides of the large battlefield, the referee dictated the terms of the match.

"This is a full match, each trainer will use six pokemon with no time limit! Full substitutions are allowed! Red trainer, release your pokemon!"

Croket nodded to the referee, pulling a Poke Ball from within his jacket and tapping the release button, enlarging it to its full size.

"Let's go, my friend," Croket intoned quietly to the Poke Ball in his hand before casting it out into the field.

The ball split, and white light cascaded from within its confines, spilling out onto the dirt and shaping itself into a glowing, humanoid form. As the glow faded, the amorphous particles became the solid form of a lanky alakazam.

"Araaa-_kazam_!" The psychic-type shouted as he emerged. His voice came out as a wheezy growl, as though he were unaccustomed to using it.

"CROKET HAS ONCE AGAIN SELECTED HIS TRUSTY ALAKAZAM! IT'S ONE OF THE ONLY THREE POKEMON HE'S SEEN FIT TO USE IN THIS TOURNAMENT SO FAR, AND IT'S THE POWERHOUSE THAT WON HIM YESTERDAY'S MATCH ALL BY ITSELF! HOW WILL ASH REPLY?"

Ash grit his teeth. He'd known alakazam would be up first; he'd come into the match expecting it, but up until the very moment of its release, he had been hoping it might be something else. Alas, it wasn't so. What could very well be the hardest single battle he'd ever fought was now before him.

There was no backing down now.

"Go, Tauros!" Ash yelled, hurling his own Poke Ball.

The Poke Ball ejected Tauros, who bellowed his own arrival as he took form on the field. The bullish pokemon snorted loudly, stamping his hooves and whipping himself with his three tails as he glared aggressively at his opponent.

"AND ASH PULLS TAUROS! IT'S THE MAIN SOURCE OF PHYSICAL POWER ON ASH'S TEAM; HE'S GOING TO TRY SMASHING THROUGH ALAKAZAM WITH FORCE!"

---

On the left side of the stadium, on one of the lower rows, close to the field, sat Misty, Brock, Gary and Richie. Professor Rowan was absent, having chosen to join Professor Oak in the announcer's box.

The four youths looked down at the field, bearing matching determined expressions. This was it, the moment of truth for they and their friend both. Today's match meant the difference between "Ash Ketchum, Champion" and "Ash Ketchum, runner-up", and though they wanted victory for their friend, of course, a championship win for Ash was somewhat validating for each of them as well. It was proof of something, of their own efforts, as well as Ash's.

Misty and Brock's endless coaching, Gary's loss to Ash, Richie's loss to Croket... Each of them had staked a part of their souls on the skill of the young man now standing on the battlefield. His victory was their victory, his loss their loss, and at that moment, each of the four wanted nothing more than to win.

---

"Begin!" Shouted the referee.

The moment the word left the ref's lips, the alakazam disappeared.

Ash's eyes widened.

"Tauros, kick straight backwards, _now!_"

The Wild Bull Pokemon reacted quickly, shifting his weight to his front legs and hefting his rear ones into the air, thrusting them out for a double kick.

The alakazam appeared less than a second after, directly behind Tauros, and caught two hooves in the chest for his troubles. The psychic-type, of a species not exactly known for physical strength and endurance, was thrown backwards by the blow, sailing a full ten feet straight back before hitting the dirt.

"WHAT REFLEXES! REACTING WITH A SPEED SUGGESTING TELEPATHY, ASH GUIDES TAUROS IN INTERCEPTING THE TELEPORTING ALAKAZAM! IT'S HURLED OFF ITS FEET BY A POWERFUL KICK! IS IT THE END ALREADY? ...NO! ALAKAZAM IS GETTING TO ITS FEET! IT DOESN'T EVEN LOOK INJURED!"

"Kazam," the Psi Pokemon chanted, levitating himself back to a stand. With a wave of his spoons, he dispelled the golden aura that had surrounded him at the second before the blow.

Ash clenched a gloved fist. Barrier. He should've known.

"I see you've been watching my matches," Croket called to Ash from across the battlefield. "That's good; preparedness is essential."

"Yeah," was all Ash could think to respond with.

In truth, he hadn't seen any of Croket's matches. Luckily, Richie had been keeping tabs on him, and, of course, had witnessed his battle style first hand, so he'd been able to supply Ash with all the information he needed. This included Croket's typical strategies, such as Teleporting directly behind his opponent and communicating with alakazam via its telepathy, negating the need for verbal commands.

"Unfortunately, that won't be enou-"

Alakazam disappeared again.

"-gh to beat us."

As Ash yelled for Tauros to dodge, alakazam appeared directly above him, about twenty feet in the air, eyes closed and spoons crossed in an "X" before his face. A gently pulsing orb of bluish-white energy materialized over the crossed spoons, and, his eyes snapping open, the Psi Pokemon slashed downward with both arms, hurling the Focus Blast at Tauros.

All Ash could do was watch as the fighting-type attack shot down at Tauros and collided with the rise of his back, smashing the bull off his feet and onto the dirt as dust billowed outward from the force of the impact.

"ALAKAZAM TELEPORTS INTO THE AIR ABOVE TAUROS! IT CAN'T REACT FAST ENOUGH TO DODGE FOCUS BLAST, AND GETS HAMMERED TO THE FLOOR! IT'S OUT LIKE A LIGHT!"

"Tauros is unable to battle! Alakazam wins!"

Ash cursed. That had hardly gone well. Still, Tauros had landed a hit, and that counted for something.

"Tauros, good work! Return." Ash commanded, recalling the Wild Bull. "Pikachu, you're up!"

"Pi-KA!" Pikachu cheered, springing out from behind Ash. He'd missed his chance to fight last time, and the battler in Pikachu was aching to get in the action once again. Nonetheless, apprehension was clearly visible in the electric Mouse Pokemon's bright, round eyes. Alakazam was _freakish_. This would not be easy.

But then again... that was the way he liked it. For all his diplomatic tendencies and clear, rational thinking, Pikachu was a prideful little thing. He would _not_ show weakness. He would_ not _show fear. Not since...

_Since when? _

Oddly, it was a question that the little electric-type found he could not answer. How long had he been travelling with Ash? When did this change come over him? Sure, he'd be adamant about his refusal to mutate into a ugly brown rat since the day he'd left the egg, but when did his personal strength become so important to him? Beating opponents. Winning matches. Badges. Leagues. When did it turn from "helping out my buddy" to "I'm going to win, no matter what"? Survival. Eating. Reproduction. These were the things that were supposed to be important to a Pokemon, not learning to split a log in half with one's tail.

And yet, there it was. Curious.

Still, now was not the time to ponder such things.

Pikachu dropped down on all fours and growled lowly at his mustachioed enemy, electricity sparking in his ruby cheeks.

"_Oh-ho."_

Pikachu's expression changed from determination to surprise in a heartbeat. It was in his head. The spoon-bender was in his head.

It was almost imperceptible, but the alakazam's eyes narrowed as he thought-spoke his next words.

"_Yes... yes I am. Musing on the workings of our own low-powered brain, are we, little one? A word from the wise: Assuming that you will eventually realize what is going on in your head, you may yet find that the truth is not to your... Ah, pardon me. It seems that I am to crush you now._"

With that, the alakazam snapped out his right arm, pointing the spoon clutched in his hand at Pikachu, who was instantly engulfed in a blue aura of psychic energy.

Ash cursed. Confusion. He was_ really _growing to hate psychics.

"Pikachu, hit it with Thunder!"

Pikachu attempted to nod in response, and failed. He tried to verbalize his confirmation... and failed. In the end, he settled for doing nothing and tried blasting alakazam with Thunder.

As it turned out, the large release of electrical energy required so little actual movement on Pikachu's part that the attack was performed successfully, and a huge bolt of yellow lightning arced across the field toward the alakazam, leaving the tainted scent of burnt ozone in its wake.

"IT'S A LIGHTNING-FAST THUNDER FROM PIKACHU TO COUNTER ALAKAZAM'S CONFUSION, BUT IT SEEMS THE PSI POKEMON'S LIGHTNING-_FASTER_! THE ELECTRIC ASSAULT'S DEFLECTED BY ANOTHER CONFUSION!"

As the bolt of lightning twisted away from its target, Croket allowed himself a small smirk, a modest show of emotion, and transmitted one final, mental command to his pokemon.

A moment later, Pikachu felt an odd jerking sensation in the pit of his stomach, and before he or Ash could realize what was happening, the electric mouse was soaring up into the air, carried by Confusion's power.

"Pikachu!" Ash cried. "Thunderbolt it, quick!"

Still immobile, Pikachu concentrated the electrical energy in his cheek sacs into a single, refined bolt that hurtled from his body and toward the alakazam with even greater speed than the previous attack.

Once again, with barely a moment's effort on alakazam's part, the lighting arced harmlessly away from the psychic-type, hitting the edge of the diffusion field and dispersing. That accomplished, it turned back to Pikachu, ready to finish him off.

To the alakazam's surprise, however, Pikachu was gone.

"AFTER ANOTHER UNSUCCESSFUL ATTACK, PIKACHU IS RECALLED! WHAT'S ASH GONNA TRY NEXT?!"

Ash tapped the release button on a familiar, lightning-marked Poke Ball, and, in a stream of white light, Pikachu was released from the confines of his spherical, red-and-white hell. As he emerged onto the turf next to Ash, he shot his trainer a throughly disgruntled look, followed by a modest squeak of thanks.

"You're glad I kept this now, aren't you?" Ash queried jokingly, tossing the ball to himself before clipping it back onto his belt. "Okay. New tactic! Let's go, Charizard!"

Feeling a sudden swell of nostalgia, Ash twisted his cap backward and kicked up his left foot before pitching Charizard's Poke Ball into the field as though it were a metallic baseball.

"IT'S CHARIZARD, FOLKS! EACH TRAINER HAS FIELDED THEIR TOP BATTLER! THIS IS SHAPING UP TO BE THE MATCH OF A LIFETIME!"

As Charizard emerged, Croket, near imperceptibly, smiled.

_I've been waiting for this..._

"Fight at your peak, boy!" The woolen-suited man shouted across the open field at Ash in what might have been his most expressive tone ever.

"Oh, we will! Don't you worry about that!" Ash yelled in response, the very sight of his prize fighter restoring his confidence to its utmost level. Charizard, perfectly in tune with Ash's mood, let out a defiant roar of his own.

"Charizard, Flamethrower!"

The dragon reacted quickly, thrusting his horned head toward the alakazam, his jaw agape. The Flamethrower shot from his throat in a concentrated stream, quickly closing the distance and striking, dead-on, the spot where alakazam was no longer standing.

"Damn telporter," Ash growled. "Behind! Get 'em with your tail!"

Charizard whirled, intending to swing his tail in a full 360-degree arc for a max-power hit, but only got halfway there, as alakazam appeared, not behind, as Ash had predicted, but directly in front of the Flame Pokemon.

The lucky tail swing collided with the Psi Pokemon's right side, and he was bowled over by the blow's power. Looking rather annoyed, he halted the momentum of his fall and levitated back to his feet, once again dispelling a Barrier. Not even pausing, he continued to float, drifting backward without actually moving, his feet less than an inch off the ground. The motionless gliding of the psychic was oddly perturbing, and it distracted Ash from commanding Charizard long enough for alakazam to begin his next offensive. Crossing his spoons once more, the wily pokemon pushed his psychic energies through his favored talismans and outward, manifesting them as physical force. Streamers of psychedelic colors spiraled outward toward Charizard, congealing into a more focused beam as they went.

"ALAKAZAM DODGES FLAMETHROWER, BUT GETS TAGGED BY CHARIZARD'S TAIL! BARRIER SAVES IT YET AGAIN, AND NOW ITS GOING FOR A PSYBEAM!"

Charizard froze, surprised, but Ash's sharp command rang clearly in his ear:

"Counter with Dragonbreath!"

The Flame Pokemon growled affirmatively and began charging the attack. Strange, greenish-yellow fire began licking out from between his clenched fangs as the powerful dragon flames built up in his mouth. Charizard flexed his neck muscles experimentally, feeling his throat contract along with his sinewy neck.

"Charizard, _now_!" Ash urged.

_Not yet, _said a voice in the dragon's head. _The pressure is not enough._

The Psybeam was close now.

Charizard's tightly shut jaw shook, his neck bulging in a pulsing spasm. "Like the heart of one's prey a moment before death," was the Charizard conventional wisdom. This was it. A perfect Dragonbreath.

His jaw snapped open and a high-pressure blast of dragonfire shot out like an iron ball from the mouth of a cannon. A huge, rushing sound accompanied the attack's release as the stream of draconic flames came together, seemingly spontaneously, to shape a massive, whirling orb before blasting off across the field.

The powerful Dragonbreath smashed into Psybeam, scattering the colorful attack as though it were nothing. At full power, the attack was strong, and the dragon fire it used had the unique property of affecting nearly every substance as though it were dry wood. Still, it was not without flaws. It was slow-moving in comparison to other fire-based attacks, and a simple matter to dodge.

"DRAGONBREATH BREAKS PSYBEAM! IT'S HEADING FOR ALAKAZAM!"

The alakazam began Teleport, and then several things happened in rapid succession. As he teleported away, and the ball of dragonfire passed harmlessly over the spot where he'd been standing, Ash shouted for another Flamethrower. Charizard complied, quickly firing a thick stream of fire straight after the Dragonbreath.

It was a lucky shot.

Alakazam warped back into existence directly behind the Dragonbreath orb, and the Flamethrower hit him dead-on in the stomach. A last-second Light Screen, molded like Exeggutor's, repelled the attack, but the Flamethrower also had the unfortunate effect of throwing alakazam backwards and into the rear of the slow-flying Dragonbreath attack.

Pinned between dragonfire and Flamethrower's superheated stream, the Light Screen shattered. Charizard's two attacks made contact, followed by a huge explosion as Dragonbreath reacted to Flamethrower and almost seemed to pop like a balloon. A giant balloon. Made of plastique.

As waves of force and fire cascaded around the battlefield, Croket roared something indistinct over the din, and the announcer roared something indistinct over Croket.

"_-BLAH BLAH BLAH AMAZING! BLAH BLAH INCREDIBLE BLAH BLAH BLAH!" _

Dust from the dirt field filled the dispersion barrier, obscuring the battlers from the onlookers' view. Occasionally, a spurt of flame or blast of force would collide with the anti-energy field and scatter, giving some audience members a lightshow, but nothing could pull their attention from the field now. Somewhere inside the tempest of dust that was the barrier, they were certain that the battle had been decided.

---

Up at the head of the stands, beneath the giant stone bowl bearing Moltres's flame, one man watched the proceedings below with particular intensity, his hazel eyes glinting under the brim of a black golf cap. Absurdly for the summer season, he was swathed in a heavy, brown overcoat that covered him from head to toe, and sweat rolled in heavy beads down his handsome face.

_Lord, maybe the old bag was right... it's sweltering out here... What a move, though... Dragonbreath and Flamethrower, I'll have to remember that..._

---

On the field, the brownish screen of dust was finally starting to settle, and Ash ground his teeth impatiently as he peered worriedly into the arena. Charizard could handle himself in a tangle uncommanded, there was no doubt about that, but against a psychic opponent, there could be trouble.

On the other side of the field, Croket had once again adopted his arms-crossed pose. His strong jaw was set, his eyes uncharacteristically hard.

Visibility returned at last, and the scene before the two trainers was not quite what either of them had expected.

Charizard and alakazam stood toe-to-toe in a position of absolute standoff. Charizard's right hand was curled tightly around his opponent's neck, deadly claws threatening to remove the Psi Pokemon's throat at any moment. Alakazam, likewise, pressed his spoon against Charizard's long neck, a long, curved blade of purpleish psychic energy extending from the utensil in a potentially decapitating Psycho Cut.

"IT'S A DEADLY STANDOFF!" The announcer screamed. "NEITHER TRAINER SEEMS TO WANT TO MAKE A MOVE!"

"This is a dangerous situation," Professor Oak said anxiously. "One false move, and we could have a fatality on our hands."

_So, this is the extent of their abilities..._ Croket smiled darkly, satisfied that his earlier analysis of Ash's strength was correct.

"Tzu," he at last addressed his alakazam by name. "That's far enough."

"Zamu," the psychic-type affirmed, removing his spoon from Charizard's neck.

Charizard, in response, clenched his fist for the final blow, expecting a satisfying crunch as he finished his opponent off, but none came. In shock, the Flame Pokemon realized that he was completely immobilized.

"Charizard!" Ash yelled. "What are you doing? Tackle it, now!"

"Your charizard has been Disabled," Croket informed him. Even from across the field, without so much as shouting, the man's deep, commanding voice reached Ash's ear. "It cannot move, I assure you. Now, then... this is as good a time as ever to inform you that my offer still stands."

Croket reached into his jacket and removed another ball, enlarging it. Unlike the standard variety, this one was matte black with odd, spiraling, grey ridges swirling around the outer casing. A bold, stylized, red "R" adorned its upper half.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ash as he realized what it was that Croket was holding.

"That's a Dark Ball! You're-"

"..._Not_ 'Alan Croket'," the grey-suited man interrupted, finishing Ash's sentence and hurling the Dark Ball into the air. "Go, Articuno!"

And then all hell broke loose.


	5. Chapter 4: Declaration of War

_1/5/09:_

Well, I can't say this one's my best work, but I can't really afford to stall any longer. At least things are starting to pick up in terms of plot. Anyway, this one's a bit of a long read, but it's nowhere near as big as chapter two was. There's not much else to say, but bonus points to you if you can tell me why I gave a certain ninja the last name that I did. An extra point if you can do it without Google or Wiki. (Hint: It has nothing to do with _Naruto_.)

Thanks for reading, and happy new year!

- _Boss Coffee_

**Chapter Four: Declaration of War**

In moments, the entire stadium descended into utter chaos. The Dark Ball whirled through the air, bursting open in mid-arc and spewing a mass of purplish-black energy that rapidly formed into the shape of a gigantic avian creature.

To the surprise of nearly everyone present, the being now hovering gracefully over the field was indeed Articuno, the legendary bird of ice. The fabled Freeze Pokemon hung in the air with ease, every flap of its magnificent, ice-blue wings chilling the very air and ruffling the snowy feathers of its stark-white belly as its long, elegant tail trailed lazily behind it. The ice bird stretched its huge wings to their full spread of nearly fourteen feet, screeching furiously as it did. Its stony gray legs pulled up to its chest, deadly talons spreading, ready to take the life of whoever was fool enough to challenge it.

Yet, magnificent as Articuno was, the taint of the Dark Ball's corruptive power hung heavy over its regal bearing. Its eyes, normally a sharp, vibrant red, were dull, its pupils dilated in pinpricks of uncharacteristic rage.

As awe-inspiring as the mere sight of the legendary bird was to the onlookers in the stands, they had little time to appreciate it. Mere moments after the bird's release, the stadium came alive with screams as, all over the stands, many spectators stripped away their coats and jackets, revealing Team Rocket uniforms beneath. Left and right, bright red "R" emblems appeared, seemingly from nowhere, on shirts, vests and hats, immediately inspiring fear and recognition in the crowd.

The Rockets moved quickly through the stands, silent and efficient, forcing audience members to their knees and swiftly knocking out any who resisted. As the majority of the Rocket forces continued subduing the bystanders, several members in each area of the stands broke away, and threw Poke Balls. The balls burst, revealing troupes of Psychic pokemon, mostly mr. mime, but with the odd kadabra or hypno mixed in as well.

Amidst the chaos, the man who was _not_ 'Alan Croket' retrieved an earpiece from his pocket, switching it on and affixing it to his left ear.

"Hailing all Administrators. This is the Boss. Report!"

---

On the left side of the stadium, up in the stands, a tall, broad-shouldered man had just finished affixing a worn, gold-colored metal mask to his head. The mask covered the entirety of the top of the man's head, save for a strip on the crown, where his spiky black hair protruded in a mohawk; and an equally thorny beard grew from his exposed chin. Red, slitted portals on the mask's front allowed him vision, and gave the headgear a sinister, demonic look. Otherwise, however, he was clad simply. Black slacks and a black dress shirt with the Rocket "R" over his left breast made up the remainder of his outfit. The simplicity of his undercover uniform irked him; he believed in making a statement with his clothing, and that statement was usually "FEAR ME". Business clothing hardly inspired intimidation.

The man, Vicious, otherwise known as the Iron-Masked Marauder, frowned as he surveyed his subordinates' work.

_Good... Good... Barrier groups are set..._

Satisfied, he tapped a panel on the side of his signature iron mask, activating the communicator within.

"Sir, this is Vicious," he growled in his rough bark of a voice. "My group is ready to go."

---

Opposite Vicious, in the left-side stands, a petite young woman in full Rocket garb was directing a group of grunts in subduing some unruly audience members.

She seemed to be in her early twenties, perhaps late teens, but it was impossible to know for sure; not even she knew her exact age. Her platinum blonde hair hung in huge French curls beneath a red-and-white cap, framing her attractive, if somewhat wicked-looking features, and her bright eyes glinted with cunning and malice. She was Domino, alias "009" or "The Black Tulip", elite Rocket agent and Field Administrator. Raised from infancy as one of Giovanni's personal enforcers, she was the epitome of ruthlessness and guile, the perfect Rocket soldier.

Domino stepped back from the fracas as her agents finished beating down the crowd and snatched a headset from the hands of a waiting grunt. Clipping the device to her ear and adjusting the receiver, she did a quick once-over of the action going on around her.

The audience was effectively contained. The occasional rabble-rouser with delusions of grandeur popped up and tried to be a hero, but none of them had a chance of succeeding. The psychics were released and in position. Flawless.

"Giovanni, sir, 009 here," she spoke into the headset. "All clear. Barrier groups awaiting your order."

---

At the end of the stadium, opposite Moltres's flame, an odd figure was perched atop the announcer's box. He was lean and athletic, of middling height, and very visibly Chinese. Dressed in a blue mantle-like tunic with flowing, oversized, white sleeves and trousers, and with his black hair twisted back in a long, braided ponytail, he practically announced his country of origin out loud.

Still, though his ornate and traditional dress was eye-catching, his most striking feature was most certainly his face. One could call his features "cunning", but the word would barely do them justice. His skin was smooth and pale, and his dark, beady eyes and high, shallow cheekbones, combined with a sloping forehead and a wide, thin-lipped mouth gave the impression of a cross between a serpent and a rodent.

"My lord, we are ready," he said into the headset clipped to his ear. His voice was a sibilant hiss that complimented his features accordingly. "The dispersion field is disabled, and the frontal entrance and surrounding areas are secure. I await your command." Though it was devoid of an outright accent, there was a certain oddity in his manner of speech: it seemed somewhat slow, overly formal, and almost robotically measured, as though every word was the product of minutes of thought.

His transmission complete, he folded his hands beneath his oversized sleeves and awaited his orders.

---

Back on the ground, the man known as Giovanni smirked in satisfaction at the efficiency of his best agents.

"Excellent work, all of you," he said, his voice reaching his three Administrators' ears by means of his headset. "Instruct the barrier groups to begin immediately. Evac arrives in ten minutes; work quickly!" With that, Giovanni terminated the communication and turned back to the stunned boy standing before him.

"So, Ashton! The truth, at last, comes out. We are Team Rocket, international crime syndicate. I apologize for my earlier deception; it was a necessary evil. My true name is Giovanni Sakaki, and I am the leader of this organization."

"_I don't give a shit!_" Ash roared, his rage apparent. "_You're going down!_"

Raising a fist, Ash charged across the dirt field, Pikachu running at his side, every inch of the pair wanting to hurt the leader of the criminal team that had endlessly plagued them and their friends.

Giovanni sighed deeply, looking genuinely disappointed.

"So my offer is declined. A pity."

Tzu the Alakazam moved to defend his trainer, but Giovanni stopped him with a raised hand. Apparently, he intended to deal with the attacking duo himself.

Pikachu reached Giovanni first, leaping into the air and coming down at the tall man with an Iron Tail. With an ease suggesting boredom, the crime boss whipped his left arm through the air, his clenched fist catching Pikachu hard in the midsection and hurling him away like a furry beach ball.

"Pikachu!" Ash yelled as he closed in, his face taut with fury at Giovanni for hurting his friend. He threw a kick, aiming for Giovanni's face. He was angry and untrained, the kick sloppy, but his intent was clear.

Giovanni slapped the attacking limb away with practiced ease, not even having to move his feet. He reached out with his right hand and grabbed the sleeve of Ash's shirt before hooking his own leg behind the boy's knee and hurling him effortlessly to the dirt.

With a short cry, Pikachu got to his feet and rushed to his trainer's side, pawing at the boy worriedly. Ash brushed him away, apparently unharmed, and raised himself up on his arms to stare angrily up at Giovanni. Perhaps never before had a look of such malice crossed Ash's face, but it was there now.

Giovanni was unperturbed.

"You see, my boy," he said, emotionless, "it is useless to resist. This is the beginning of a worldly upheaval, something grander than you could possibly imagine. When this conflict comes to close, all of humanity will be divided into two groups: Team Rocket, and those who are dominated by us. It falls to you alone to choose your fate, but know this: should you refuse us, you will meet your end on this field."

"We'll see about that!" Ash spat.

"PikaCHU!"

The Rocket boss's expression hardened.

"Very well."

As if to conclude the exchange, a rushing, crackling sound, akin to static, filled the air as huge spherical shields of energy sprung up around the stadium. The giant, gold-colored barriers of psychic power conjured by the Rockets' pokemon now enclosed the left, right, and front areas of the colleseum, sealing each of them off from the others, as well as from the outside world. Only the field itself and the back end of the stadium, where the fiery bowl rested, remained clear, for the rear area lacked an exit and afforded those in the stands no means of escape.

The woollen-suited Rocket boss looked about in satisfaction. The barriers had risen, and the attack was now in full swing. His men would sweep through the crowd, confiscating every last Poke Ball, and dealing with any threat that arose. He himself would deal with the impudent boy, and relieve him of his powerful pokemon.

This was it. The true rise of Team Rocket, the way he had always envisioned it, began here.

"Articuno," The Boss commanded the brainwashed legend, "Ice Beam."

The Freeze Pokemon responded with a screech of hateful rage, and reared back its majestic, crowned head as chilling energy gathered between its beaktips.

As the attack charged, time seemed to slow to a crawl.

A huge roar sounded from behind Giovanni; Charizard was straining with all his might against Tzu's Disable, fighting with everything he had to come to his trainer's rescue. But alas, the alakazam's psychic powers far outstripped those of Jeanette's exeggutor, and even the motivation of such dire circumstances failed to give Charizard the strength he needed to break Disable's hold. Uncharacteristic tears of rage and anguish filled the fire pokemon's eyes as he realized there was nothing he could do.

Ash remained sitting on the ground, his eyes hard and unblinking, and Pikachu sat cradled in his arms. Both bore looks of extraordinary defiance. Both were of one mind. Neither would show his back. Neither would retreat an inch. If it had to end here, it would not end without a fight, and as the Ice Beam flew forth from Articuno's mouth, both trainer and pokemon rose and threw themselves forward to meet their fate head-on.

Giovanni found that he could not help but smile regretfully.

_Farewell, brave ones..._

...

...

...

The thick, reddish-orange beam of force came out of nowhere, shattering the temporal illusion, as well as Articuno's attack.

As Giovanni, Ash, Pikachu, Charizard and Tzu alike looked on in shock, an orange blur careened through the sky, following the Hyper Beam, and crashed headlong into Articuno's side, hurling the azure bird to the ground. Where Articuno had been but a moment before now hovered a seven-and-a-half-foot beast of scale and sinew, its huge, reptillian body held aloft by a comically small pair of batlike, bluish-green wings. Its rounded head, crowned with a single horn, bore twin antennae-like appendages, one at each temple. The newcomer gave a thunderous bellow, sweeping its long, powerful tail from side to side as it stared down its legendary opponent.

Ash recognized the pokemon immediately: a dragonite. A dragonite had just saved his, and Pikachu's, life. He briefly considered that this might all be a post-mortem fantasy and he was, in fact, in the afterlife, before a loud shout jolted him back to reality. He cast his eyes up towards the source of the yell, and quickly located its origin.

Dashing down the huge staircase at the very head of the stadium was a man in a long, brown overcoat and black golf cap. He reached the low, railed wall at the end of the stands within moments, flinging away his cap as he mounted the railing and kicked off. As all those below looked on, the man hurtled bodily through the air and down towards the field, ripping away his heavy coat as he did. As the man touched down on the stadium floor, landing in a crouch to reduce the impact, Ash struggled to his feet, slack-jawed at the realization of who had just jumped into the field.

"_Lance?!_"

The famed mainland Champion rose to his full height. His long, spiky mass of crimson hair, now unfettered by the golf cap, whipped about in the wind, and the flag-like mass of his famous cape followed suit. Besides the cape, he was dressed exclusively in leather, wearing a red-and-black jacket with a wraparound collar and pants of matching design, along with leather stirrup boots that matched the brown of his cape. The flamboyant Lance ignored Ash's exclamation, instead turning immediately to face Giovanni. There was fire in the dragon master's hazel eyes as they locked with the crime boss's grey ones, each man observing the other with the utmost of hatred and contempt.

"So," Lance regarded his foe, his voice even and dangerous, "it's you."

"Clearly," Giovanni responded with a tinge of sarcasm, "and at last. This time, you _will_ die."

As the two men continued glaring at each other, Dragonite and Articuno flew around to their respective masters' sides in preparation for battle, and Tzu joined Giovanni as well. The normally placid psychic-type was clearly incensed, his thin eyes narrowed even further than usual in a glare to match his trainer's.

Ash stared numbly. Before him were the makings of a world-class battle with his own life at stake. It was positively surreal. A scant few minutes ago, he was in the midst of a championship match... and now he was watching the leader of Team Rocket and the most powerful pokemon trainer in all of Japan fight a life-or-death battle in the stadium bowl, completely cut off from the outside world. It was like something out of a cartoon.

Charizard stomped up beside Ash, snapping the boy out of his trance. It took Ash a moment to realize that this meant that his pokemon was freed from Disable. Apparently, the battle about to take place warranted Tzu's full attention. The Flame Pokemon jerked his head towards the face-off and looked at Ash expectantly.

Ash nodded. Even Lance might need help with this one.

---

Gary Oak's eyes flicked nervously toward the group of Rocket grunts down the row on his left as he thumbed one of the Poke Balls attached to his belt. Glancing to his right, he noted Brock, Misty and Richie doing the same. He made eye contact with each of them, inclining his head slightly as he did so.

The group was vastly outnumbered; though there were relatively few Rockets in the immediate area, there were surely dozens, if not more, in the left side stands in general. There was little chance of victory in this fight, but even less of a choice in the matter. Unless they resisted, unless they fought, Team Rocket would simply take their pokemon, and that was not acceptable. The young researcher would sooner die than willingly allow his friends and partners to fall into the hands of criminals.

_...But why are they doing this?_

Gary couldn't shake that nagging thought. Such an overt move against the League wasn't Team Rocket's style. An all-out attack like this was highly unusual; unprecedented, really. Was it Articuno? The bird's capture was a shock, certainly, and it gave them a powerful weapon, but that alone couldn't have emboldened them so much. An offensive of this magnitude meant that something had changed. Something big.

His eyes drifted to the left again. The Rockets were closer now; just a few audience members remained between the black-suited criminals and his group. No one was putting up a fight, or at least enough of one. Yet another person handed over his wallet and Poke Balls wthout incident. Were they all so spineless?

Gary clutched Electivire's Poke Ball tightly in his right hand as the criminals moved down the row. Next up was an odd-looking man dressed like a western cowboy. He did look more than capable of defending himself, though...

_Wait..._

Gary jolted, taken aback.

_...That's-!_

"HOO-HAH!"

As Gary watched, the bodies of two Rockets sailed over his head and crashed into the wall of the psychic barrier, falling to the floor in a heap.

The mountainous cowboy was on his feet, holding a third, struggling grunt aloft in one of his huge hands. The black-clad criminal was scared beyond his wits, desperately grasping at the cowboy's thick wrist in a vain attempt to escape. His struggles availed him nothing against the giant's overwhelming brawn, and, like a humanoid baseball, he was pitched across the stands, hitting the barrier and coming to rest on top of his unconscious comrades.

Snorting dismissively, the cowboy pulled his hat from his head, tossing the irksome headgear away. Freed from its confinement, a mane of long, shaggy brown hair spilled down the man's neck. With his other hand, he snapped away the buttons of his denim jacket and removed the garment entirely, revealing the rippling waves of muscle beneath. He exhaled heavily, as though he were just freed from the hangman's noose itself.

"Stop that godforsaken melodrama," snapped his partner, the elderly woman, as she undid the ribbon beneath her chin and removed her oversized bonnet, exposing a meticulously styled head of graying blonde hair. "Some of us actually wear shirts _every_ day, as hard to believe as that may be."

The burly man rolled his dark eyes in response and extended a large hand to the still-seated woman.

"Agatha."

"Peh!" Agatha of the inter-regional Elite Four spat, slapping the hand away. "I'm not some helpless invalid!"

With that, the elderly Elite pushed herself to her feet, preferring to enlist the aid of her worn, wooden cane. Standing at her full height, she didn't even reach her comrade's shoulder, but she somehow managed to be every bit as intimidating as him, perhaps more so.

"These vile men," she snarled dangerously, her sharp eyes glinting in her lined face, "they think that they can harm innocents and make a mockery of the League." Her gnarled hand tossed a Poke Ball out into the stands. "Go, my friend! Let's punish these idiots!"

The light of the ball's release faded to reveal a spiny, five-foot blob of grinning, translucent purple fury. Its huge, red eyes alight at the prospect of mischief, Agatha's gengar let out a raspy laugh, displaying its pearly white, slab-like teeth. It flexed its stubby arms, preparing to fly off in search of Rockets to maim, but a boy's shouting voice gave its trainer, and by extension, it, pause.

"Hey, Agatha! Bruno!"

The two Elite Four members turned toward the source of the shout and found four kids rushing up to meet them.

"Well I'll be," muttered Agatha. "It's young Oak!"

"I believe those two behind him are Harrison and Waterflower from the Pewter and Cerulean gyms," the brawny Bruno added, nodding sagely. "And the other is that young man from the semifinals."

"Agatha, Bruno." Gary gave a shallow bow to both Elites in turn. "This is Brock, Misty and Richie. They're all strong trainers. How can we help?"

Misty, Brock and Richie all expressed varying degrees of surprise at the relatively casual manner in which Gary addressed the two elites, but all chose not to address it, perhaps due to the gravity of the situation.

"You can help," Agatha said simply, "by fighting. Team Rocket has long plagued our League, and this overt attack is beyond the pale. There will be no diplomacy here. Take down every Rocket you see, and target those with psychics especially. Once we down enough of them, this barrier will fall. Call out your strongest pokemon."

The group of teenagers nodded, reaching for belts and into bags and pockets, retrieving Poke Balls and releasing their contents.

Bruno had already released his machamp, and the two of them were looking about for signs of trouble. They had gotten lucky, and were seated in a relatively isolated part of the stands. There appeared to be no more Rockets in the immediate vicinity. The fighting master, satisfied, turned back to the group to examine the kids' pokemon.

Gary had released his electivire, Brock his marshtomp, and Richie his tyranitar. The two Elites gave each pokemon a once-over.

"Er, Misty, was it?" Bruno queried. "What about you?"

"My number one is a gyarados. If I let him out now, the Rockets'll come running. I thought we should strategize first."

"Sound reasoning, girl," Agatha commended. "Young man," she addressed Brock, gesturing skeptically at Marshtomp, "is this really your strongest battler? Bruno told me you were a _gym leader_."

"I was," Brock said somewhat glumly, "but I've passed leadership back to my father. My strongest pokemon are with my younger brother."

"I see. Nonetheless, this pokemon is in prime form. I trust your skills." Agatha announced with finality, and said nothing more on the matter. "We'll split into two groups," the Elite continued, turning back to the group at large. "Bruno will lead Gary and Brock. I will take Misty and Richie. Bruno, fight your way to the head of the stadium; we'll move for the foot. Eliminate any Rocket-controlled psychics you see, but protect the crowd at all costs! If the barriers fall, get onto the field _immediately_ and assist Lance in subduing Articuno."

"_Lance?!_" the four younger trainers spoke in chorus.

"Yes," assured Bruno, "Lance. That's his dragonite out there," the huge man said, pointing a thick finger at the blurred orange shape standing in the field beyond the barrier. "All five mainland Elites are present. We'll explain later, but we should get moving."

With those final words, the gathered trainers split into their respective groups and headed off down the stands in opposite directions.

Misty walked in silence behind Agatha, her newly released gyarados looking down at her worriedly, or at least as worriedly as his perpetually angry features could manage. He'd never seen his trainer so agitated... Her blue eyes, typically as sharp and clear as the freshest water, were dull, clouded. Her mind was not on the task at hand, her thoughts elsewhere. This alone was enough to disturb Gyarados. This was not his trainer.

On any other day, Misty might have noticed her pokemon's discomfort and reassured him, but right then, there was but one thought on the girl's mind:

_You'd better be all right, Ash..._

---

Across the field, on the right side of the stadium, a man in a hawaiian shirt was angrily staring down the Rocket standing before him.

"Look, _sir_," the grunt drawled irritably, as though he were a waiter addressing an antsy diner patron, "we just need your pokemon and your money. There's no need to make a _scene_."

The hawaiian shirt man's expression only intensified, his bushy, forked, black eyebrows peaking as he shoved his face into the Rocket's. The odd Japanese man was middle-aged, his bushy, black hair tinged with grey, but he exuded an aura of sheer intimidation that cowed the grunt utterly.

As the Rocket recoiled, the man continued to leer at him. His left eyebrow twitched dangerously.

"My friend begs to differ."

As he finished his sentence, his right hand shot to his belt, coming up with a Poke Ball in its grasp. A light toss sent the orb sailing lazily into the air, where it burst, releasing a massive, protean, purple form.

The huge muk, easily twice the size of Ash's, fell open mouth-first onto the Rocket, swallowing the cowering man whole. The pokemon morphed his captured enemy through his own body and up into his hand before hurling him, covered in sludge, at a group of his fellows a few meters off. As the Rockets collapsed into a tangle of arms and legs bound together by goop, several of their nearby comrades moved in to confront this new uprising. As they reached for their Poke Balls, a wave of invisible force knocked them off their feet.

The hawaiian's comrade lowered his outstretched hand and adjusted his huge, mirrored aviator sunglasses, pausing further to sweep the bangs of his long, purple hair out of his face. He sighed at the sight of more Rockets closing in.

"Really, Koga. You could have just knocked him out, but instead you went and... well... made a scene."

"Now, now, Will," the Elite Four's resident ninja retorted, pulling off his hawaiian shirt in a flurry of popping buttons, revealing a well-toned body crisscrossed with scars, "even a _shinobi_ such as myself relishes the prospect of open combat once in a while."

"Tuh!" Will grunted in response, cracking his neck as he positioned himself back-to-back with Koga. "Well said, I guess, but this could be trouble, you know?"

Koga gave a short bark of a laugh at this, and as the two men took fighting stances, and Muk raised his arms in preparation, a gang of twenty Rockets circled around them. In myriad bursts of light, the Rocket grunts released their pokemon: three raticate, four ekans and an arbok, four koffing, two grimer, a pidgeotto, a furret, and two beedrill.

Forty against three. One had to feel sorry for the Rockets.

Will moved first, reaching out with his natural psychic abilities and grabbing the two grimer with telekinesis. The sludgy purple pokemon were lifted into the air, where they hung for a moment as Will leered at their trainers.

This alone gave the Rocket group pause. This hadn't been in the mission brief. Sure, they had been expecting some minor resistance, but nothing like this.

Then the pause was up, and the grimer went flying through the air, smashing into the pidgeotto and two beedrill. The flying pokemon stuck in the goop of grimer's amorphous body, and as the psychic elite sent the two poison types crashing into each other in midair, their fates were sealed. All five pokemon were hopelessly stuck together.

As the Rockets stood mesmerized by their comrades' downfall, Koga and Muk struck as one. The ninja trainer was a blur of motion, hurling himself into the midst of the grunts and leaping up, striking two in their heads simultaneously with a split kick. Muk's Gunk Shot downed the furret and all three raticate before their trainers could utter a single command.

As Koga himself knocked out two more Rockets and engaged a third, Will yanked a Poke Ball from his belt and tossed it upwards. Telekinetic power caught it in midair and sent it flying like a bullet, pinballing it between the faces of the koffing and rendering all four throughly unconscious before the ball finally burst. The espeon within joined the battle immediately, a quick, telepathic link with its master revealing everything it needed to know about the situation at hand.

Within seconds, the fight was over. Muk, Espeon and the two Elites had dispatched all forty foes without taking so much as a scratch.

"Exhilarating!" Koga announced, hands on his hips, grinning as he surveyed his handiwork.

"Sure," Will said, indifferent, "but in case you haven't noticed, we've got a bit of a situation, here."

"Right you are," the rambunctious ninja said, looking a bit disappointed at his ally's lack of enthusiasm. "We should split up. Cover more ground."

"That would be best. I'll go down this way; you move towards the bowl."

"_Hai._"

---

On the field, two huge battles were now underway. Charizard and Tzu were once again locked in combat, with Pikachu assisting his draconic comrade. Despite the fact that Tzu was fighting solo, uncommanded, Ash was having difficulty against it. His two most powerful pokemon were straining just to match the Alakazam alone. The boy growled in frustration. Just how strong was this thing?

Meanwhile, Lance and Giovanni were engaged in a furious midair dogfight. Both trainers now straddled the backs of their respective pokemon, and were shouting orders to their mounts, rapid fire, over the rush of the wind as Dragonite and Articuno struggled to outmanuever each other.

"Blizzard!"

"Dive down, then climb fast! Hit it with Dragon Rush!"

Lance clung tightly to his pokemon's muscular, orange neck as the dragon twisted around in the air and dove toward the ground, evading the storm of ice and wintery air fired by Articuno. As the ground rushed up to meet him, Dragonite expertly manuevered himself in a complete one-eighty and shot straight back up towards Articuno.

"Don't let them get close!" Giovanni roared, and Articuno fired off an Ice Beam at Dragonite in response.

Lance cursed. Articuno's powerful ice attacks were keeping him completely at bay. He knew all too well the dragon type's weakness to ice, and with an additional flying type on Dragonite, the potential damage was too severe to risk, even for his powerful friend. Without the element of surprise, direct attacks were useless. Time for a new tactic.

"Break off, then Twister!" he shouted.

Dragonite nodded, quickly altering his course yet again to dodge the ice-blue beam of freezing energy. As the pokemon pulled up, now level with Giovanni and Articuno, his eyes glowed with tinge of red as he called upon the ancient power of his dragon blood. His kind commanded the power of storms; he would summon a vicious whirlwind around his opponents.

Rapidly, the swirling air currents took form, and before Giovanni could issue another order to Articuno, the pair were trapped in the midst of Dragonite's huge Twister. In a moment, the whirling pillar of air was so dense, and spinning with such velocity that it was completely opaque.

Lance smirked confidently, basking in his own triumph. An aerial pokemon inside a Twister of that magnitude was assuredly trapped, a sitting duck, so to speak. With no way out, and no way to attack accurately, buffeted continuously by the dragon-powered storm, both pokemon and rider would be knocked out in seconds. All Dragonite had to do was sit back and maintain the attack's integrity.

_With this, your legacy is at an end, Giovanni... your villainy will never again bring harm to a living crea-_

"-ARG!"

A pained yell escaped Lance's lips as a ferocious Ice Beam struck Dragonite in the stomach and knocked him out of the sky. As the dragon's concentration was broken, the tempest he was maintaining dissapated immediately, the winds going from a raging billows to a mild breeze in a second.

As the storm dissolved around him, Giovanni laughed heartily, standing on the hovering Articuno's downy back.

"Mind Reader, my boy!" he crowed. "Who needs eyesight?"

Giovanni's taunt hardly registered in Lance's mind as he and Dragonite plummeted towards the dirt field. He gripped his mount's neck tightly.

"Dragonite," he yelled, "you've got to pull up! You can do it! _Show them that you can do it!_"

As the dragon master shouted this encouragement to his partner, he discreetly pulled an odd, rectangular object from a pouch on his belt, quickly and surreptitiously pressing it to the back of Dragonite's neck. There was tiny glimmer of ethereal light, and the object was gone.

Immediately, a change came over the pokemon. His eyes, formerly sealed shut by the pain of the Ice Beam's impact, snapped open, bright and clear. He flexed his abdominal muscles, shattering the film of ice that Articuno's attack had left on his scaly stomach, and with two huge wingbeats, halted his rapid descent.

Lance gave the dragon a friendly slap on the back of the neck, leaning in close to the reptile's ear.

"See, I knew you could do it. Now, keep it easy. Don't give anything away, got it?"

Dragonite turned his head to give his trainer a very pointedly sarcastic look.

_Like I need to be told?_

The short exchange between pokemon and trainer was interrupted by the heavy beating of wings. Dragonite and Lance turned their eyes upward in unison as Articuno descended.

"I am duly impressed." Giovanni announced, halting the legendary bird at Lance and Dragonite's level, roughly thirty feet off the ground. "Your dragons are expertly trained. Articuno's Ice Beam can kill an altaria in a single blow."

"_And how do you know __**that**__?!_" Lance raged, realizing the implications of the Rocket Boss's statement.

"Calculation and conjecture," the Boss replied with a curt laugh. "Getting rattled so easily... you're still green, boy. Why would I throw away a dragon while my soldiers still use spearow?"

"Because you're a sadist, and criminal filth," the Champion spat back.

The Rocket shrugged his padded shoulders.

"Morality is subjective."

"But life is sacred," Lance said with finality. "No more stalling. I'm taking you down,_ now_."

Giovanni smirked cruelly at this, pointing down the field, to the spot where Ash had been battling Tzu.

"I think not," he hissed coldly.

As Lance saw what his foe was gesturing at, his blood ran cold in his veins. Charizard was unconscious on the ground, perhaps dead; it was impossible for him to tell from this distance and angle. Pikachu was still standing, if only barely, but he was just as paralyzed as Lance, for Tzu had Ash levitating a foot off the ground, a Psycho Cut blade pressed to the boy's neck.

"Move, and he dies," Giovanni spoke the words simply, as though reciting a mundane textbook fact.

The dragon master clenched his fists tightly. Hostage taking? Was there no end to their dishonorable depravity?

Dragonite mewled worriedly, turning his head to look up at Lance with questioning eyes.

Lance patted his friend's head, shaking his own. He would not forfeit a human life, under _any_ circumstances. Even if they struck now and took the Rocket Boss down, arrested him, finished Team Rocket for good, if the boy died for the sake of that final blow, it would never be a victory.

"Lance!" Ash shouted, observing Lance's sudden inaction and realizing the situation, "Forget about me! TAKE HIM OUT!"

Giovanni tapped the top of Articuno's crested head and pointed at Lance and Dragonite. The air around the bird instantly took on a deadly chill as frost gathered within its body in preparation for a lethal Blizzard attack. The Rocket boss grinned, knowing full well that Lance would not act, despite Ash's words. He could not, for he was pure. He was just. He was a fool, and as Articuno's hooked beak pulled open to deliver the killing blow, the triumphant crime lord delivered a parting blow, a look of ecstatic victory on his typically impassive face,

"To hold life as sacred is no virtue. Your morality has murdered you, Champion."

---

"Excellent work, gentlemen," Koga nodded to the six police officers grouped before him.

The ninja Elite had managed to rally the small group of officers as he moved across the stands, and they had assisted him greatly in combating the Rockets, using their growlithe to take down several psychics while Koga fought the other grunts. As the League was unused to anything beyond unruly fans at its tournaments, the stadium security forces were severely understaffed and underequipped, so Koga's sudden appearance was a great help to them as well.

"It was all you, sir," insisted one of the officers, a younger man in his early twenties. "We couldn't have done it without you."

"Nonsense!" Koga bellowed in earnest. "You're more than capable. Now, we're nearly to the head of the stadium, and there's no time to spare. You men deal with the groups down in the lower half; I'll handle things up top."

The ninja master tossed out a Poke Ball, releasing his crobat. The roundish, purple bat-creature emitted a low squeak from between its clenched teeth as it emerged, and fluttered up into the air on its four leathery wings.

Koga leapt up into the air, landing atop his pokemon's back on a single, pointed toe, his other foot drawn up to the opposing knee. As astonishing as the man's balance was, what was most astounding about the position was that the crobat seemed utterly unaffected by its trainer's weight on its back, and maintained its position in the air without so much as a dip in altitude.

"Let us go, my comrade!"

As the policemen looked on in awe and admiration, Crobat rose higher into the air, Koga still perched nonchalantly on its back, and flew off toward the top portion of the stands with silent wingbeats. In seconds, they had reached the upper edge of the stadium wall, nearly brushng against the upper curve of the barrier.

Koga looked down his pointed nose at the stands below, scouring the crowd for signs of Rocket activity. Before long, he spotted several grunts accosting a group of audience members.

"Crobat! Touch down over there!" he shouted, pointing in the Rockets' direction.

With a screech, Crobat began its descent, and as it drew close, Koga tensed his leg in preparation to jump down on the criminals.

The jump, however, never came, as seemingly from nowhere, a small black blur appeared, shooting toward Crobat at high speed.

Koga's eyes widened, and with reflexes bordering on the superhuman, he vaulted from Crobat's back with a twirl, snatching the offending projectile from the air with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand before landing effortlessly in the stands fifteen feet below. He examined the object in his hand with an air of mild puzzlement.

"A flower," he announced to no one in particular.

No sooner had the words left the Elite's lips than a huge surge of electricity erupted from the mysterious vegetation, the deadly voltage running through his body with literally lightning speed, enveloping him in halo of crackling energy. A second later, the voltage ceased its flow, and Koga slumped forward slightly, somehow still on his feet. A few wisps of smoke rose lazily up from his body.

Like an errant shadow, Domino the Rocket administrator appeared as if from nowhere, a cruel smirk of pure triumph etched across her youthful features as she approached Koga. A ninja was one thing, but as Team Rocket's most elite spy, she was as well-versed in the arts of steath and deception as any.

"It's a tulip, you dunce," she quipped at the Elite's still-smoking body.

Suddenly, a toned, scarred arm shot out, its hand closing around Domino's left wrist. Her smug expression changed immediately to one of alarm as the supposedly deceased Koga raised his head.

"I was well aware," he grinned. "Horticulture happens to be a hobby of mine."

Domino stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Y-you should be dead!"

Koga's grin only widened at the Rocket's words.

"Do not underestimate the training of a Sarutobi clan _shinobi_," he growled. "My body can withstand shocks well in excess of a typically fatal voltage. The sting of your tulip is no worse than its scent."

Domino let out a hateful screech and swept her right arm up at Koga's head.

The ninja master reacted quickly, relinquishing his grip on Domino's left wrist and hopping backwards, retreating several feet.

Domino grimaced at yet another failed attempt at finishing off the Elite, and tapped at something on her right forearm, beneath the sleeve of her uniform jacket. The narrow, foot-long blade that had suddenly extended from her right cuff slid back into it in response.

"Peh," Koga uttered dismissively, "you're a hundred years too early to be trying to kill me. Crobat!"

The bat pokemon, who had been hovering silently in the air since its master had left its back, wafted silently down to Koga's side at the sound of his call.

"Use Confuse Ray," the ninja commanded, pointing at the Black Tulip.

With an affirmative screech, Crobat began preparing a Confuse Ray.

Without so much as blinking, Domino pulled up the right sleeve of her jacket. Revealed beneath was a streamlined metal armlet, painted gloss black, that covered her forearm almost completely. This was, of course, the source of the blade from before, but that was not its primary function, as Domino proceeded to demonstrate. She raised her arm, pointing the device at Crobat, and compressed a panel on the armlet's side with her left hand.

A mechanical discus slightly larger than a golf ball and painted the same gloss black as the armlet shot from the weapon and towards Crobat, trailing a beam of red light behind it. Rather than hitting the pokemon, however, the disc flew past Crobat, and, with a flick of Domino's wrist, looped around its body, wrapping it in the odd red trail. Domino pulled her arm back, and the laser lash contracted around Crobat, passing through it and disappearing as the disc itself returned to the armlet. The entire process was over before Crobat could even begin launching its attack.

"What is that thing?!" Koga shouted at Domino. "What did you do to Crobat?!"

"This," she said, the arrogant smirk back on her face, "is a Black Styler: a Ranger Capture Styler reverse engineered and upgraded by yours truly. As for what it does, let me show you! Crobat, give your old boss an Air Cutter!"

Silently, Crobat turned toward Koga, and as it did, he could see the change in his pokemon's face. Its eyes glowed with a faint tinge of red, and its features were twisted into a disturbing expression of simultaneous rage and sorrow.

"C-crobat..." he stammered. "No..."

Crobat screeched, its voice an unholy, cacophonous wail the likes of which had never before come from its mouth. It swept its two larger wings through the air with frightening velocity, one after the other, creating blades of force that arced toward Koga with equal speed.

As the attack closed in, Domino smiled.

_Die._

---

Gyarados was down. It lay, gasping like a literal fish out of water, its gargantuan, serpentine body sprawled over a wide area of the stands, with a ragged, gaping hole in its side.

Vicious, the Iron Masked Marauder, cackled madly as he tossed one of his patented Dark Balls up and down in his hand.

By the aptly named Rocket's side hovered a huge crane-like bird. Its body was a light brown, save for its white-feathered shoulders and wingtips and a mohawk crest of crimson upon its head. Its long, wicked-looking beak was stained red with blood. Though the bird pokemon, a Fearow, was of a species prone to violence, this particular Fearow, under the influence of a Dark Ball, had gone above and beyond nature's call. Its bloody mandibles snapped several times in rapid succession as it manuevered a stray piece of flesh in its mouth, and as it swallowed, a lump was clearly visible traveling down its long, spindly neck.

"So, Fearow," the Marauder addressed his pokemon, "how are you liking your fish? HA!"

"You_ monster!_" Misty cried, tears rollng down her cheeks as she recalled her wounded pokemon. "Why are you doing this?! _How could you do this?!_"

"You will be punished!" Agatha roared at Vicious, her voice surprisingly loud and strong for a woman her age. "Gengar, use Thunderbolt!"

Agatha's gengar gave a cackle of his own as he clasped his stubby hands together. As he separated them, strands of electrical energy were visible arcing between his fingertips. He thrust both arms forth, palms outward, and the electricity zapped out towards Vicious in a concentrated bolt.

"Intercept, Fearow!" the Rocket commanded.

With a slightly demented caw, the Beak Pokemon launched itself between the Thunderbolt and Vicious, taking the attack for its dark master. It screeched in pain as the type-effective attack coursed through its body, and as the assaulted abated, it collapsed to the floor, spasming violently.

"Just one attack..." Vicious grumbled, pulling Fearow back into its Dark Ball. "...Pathetic." He popped a second ball from his belt and threw it. "C'mon out, Ursaring!"

From the Dark Ball's confines came a monster of an ursaring. The bear pokemon easily exceeded six feet in height, and its long arms and stumpish legs visibly rippled with muscle, even beneath its thick coat of dark brown fur. Saliva flew from its maw as it roared its arrival, and it flexed its knifelike foreclaws as its soulless eyes darted about in search for an opponent to injure. For a pokemon so tainted by a Dark Ball's induced psychosis, for a pokemon_ period_, this ursaring was in tremendous shape.

Vicious grinned beneath his iron helm.

"Meet the pride of my new team! Ursaring, hit that Gengar with Faint Attack!"

Agatha cursed silently as Ursaring's massive frame began to rapidly fade into invisbility. Or perhaps nothingness. Perhaps an alternate dimension. Regardless, it was a mystery- the science of Faint Attack eluded even the most persistent and brilliant of modern-day researchers. The user simply faded away, the opponent was struck, and the user reappeared. Even powerful spiritualists like Agatha herself were utterly baffled by the technique.

"Gengar," she called, holding out her Poke Ball, "return!" The red recall beam struck Gengar and pulled it back into its ball, saving the ghost from heavy damage by the dark-type attack.

Ursaring reappeared, looking rather dismayed at its own inability to maim the retreated Gengar.

Agatha glared menacingly at the bear, even as she realized that her team, elite as it was, would have little chance against a powerful, ghost-immune normal-type armed with a dark attack.

"Misty!" the old woman called, inwardly berating herself for her own incapability. "Do you have any pokemon capable of fighting it?"

"I... I only have my Starmie," Misty stammered, still visibly shaken by the violent attack on her gyarados.

Agatha swore again, this time out loud. A starmie would fare only marginally better than Gengar, and the water/psychic starfish was assuredly of a much lower level than any of Agatha's team. Only Richie and tyranitar could fight Ursaring effectively, and Agatha had ordered them to move on ahead while she and Misty dealt with Vicious. The situation looked rather grim.

"Call it out."

Misty looked at Agatha with unadulterated incredulity.

"_What?_"

"Call it out," Agatha repeated, her voice firm as she re-enlarged Gengar's Poke Ball. "We must fight."

"That's suicide!" Misty protested. "I won't let Starmie get hurt unnecessarily! I can't ask it to fight when... when even you-!"

Gengar was out now, floating beside its trainer with an unusually resolute look on its typically carefree face, a look that it shared with its trainer.

"When I _what_?" Agatha hissed agitatedly. "When I am underpowered? Impotent? _Faced with defeat_? Do you think I enjoy asking my pokemon to battle, even when I know they are in danger? This is not pleasure, girl; this is war! This is _duty_! My duty as a member of the Elite Four, and yours as a Gym Leader! Now take your Poke Ball and hold it tightly, if not for yourself than for what you represent as an emmisary of the Pokemon League! I will not allow you to shame your station by surrendering to these cretins!"

The old woman stood straight, knobbly hands folded over the head of her equally knobbly cane, her wrinkled face crossed with a look of imperious determination. Despite her age, her infirmity, and the very situation at hand, she looked powerful, inordinately so, and in that moment, Misty saw a familiar fire in the aged woman's eyes, a fire that she'd seen and admired so often before in the eyes of another. It was the burning resolution of one who knew what needed to be done, and would not hesitate for a moment in doing it, come what may.

Misty's hand reached into her bag, closing tightly around her last Poke Ball, the one containing her starmie, and pulled the orb free.

"I'm sorry, ma'am; I was foolish," she said evenly, doing her best to suppress the doubt and fear that she felt as she released starmie.

"Worry not, child," Agatha uttered dismissively, "so long as you can fight. We have more pressing issues now..."

Vicious smirked at this. The old crone obviously regarded him as a serious threat, and the glee that brought him alone was the only thing that had kept him from attempting to decapitate her during her little motivational segway. What could he say? He was a man that loved attention, especially when it came in the forms of fear and respect. However, the moment had passed; his opponents were ready to fight, and he would not disappoint them.

---

Koga leapt out of the way just in time, as dual swords of pure wind carved into the stone bleachers where he had stood just a moment before.

"Man, you really are a ninja!" Domino said with an air of offhand surprise. "It doesn't matter though; I'll get you sooner or later. Crobat! Turn it up a notch!"

Shuddering in increasingly intense paroxysms of fury, the dark-warped bat pokemon whipped its wings about for a second time in another Air Cutter assault.

Koga hurled his body to the side, cartwheeling off his right hand while grabbing Crobat's Poke Ball from his side with his left. As he landed back on his feet, he thrust out his left arm, firing the ball's recall beam. The line of shimmering crimson cut through the air and struck Crobat squarely between the eyes. Koga held his breath as the beam connected. The red glow flowed from the point of impact, spread, and, with a rushing sound, Crobat was successfully returned.

Domino pouted as her temporary servant dissolved back into its ball.

"What'd you go and do that for? You're no fun."

"This is _fun_ to you?" Koga glowered dangerously at the blonde.

"Loads." The Black Tulip grinned, again snapping out the arm blade. She bent low, running at Koga in a dead sprint, pulling the blade up and back as she did. Closing the distance, she swung the blade down at the man in vertical slash.

Koga dodged swiftly, weaving ever-so-slightly to the left as the blade cut through empty air.

Undeterred, Domino unleashed a rapid flurry of attacks, swinging and jabbing furiously at her opponent with the short blade. Likewise undaunted, Koga shifted back and forth, evading each stroke and stab with minimalist grace. Growling in frustration, Domino redoubled her assault, but it was yet again in vain; Koga merely continued to dodge, an impassive look on his face.

"What the _hell!_" Domino screamed, lashing out at Koga with a whirling kick.

The ninja leaned back, avoiding the strike, but again attempted no counter-blow.

"Stop screwing around!" 009 bellowed, her voice an infuriated yell. "You condescending _fuck_."

Koga's eyes narrowed at this, his thick eyebrows bristling.

"Do not mistake me," he said tonelessly. "You have tainted the soul of my partner, and defiled his honor; I desire nothing more than to strike you. However, I am likewise bound by honor, for I refuse to attack a woman."

"That's even more insulting," Domino spat, retracting the blade. "I'm through playing with you."

With that, the Rocket elite whipped her left arm downward, the force of the movement triggering a mechanism beneath her sleeve and depositing a small, one-shot handgun into her palm. Smiling darkly, she leveled the gun at Koga's chest. She smirked as the ninja's eyes widened.

"Bang. Bang."

_BANG_

The gun fired, and the bullet streaked through the air... and hit the upper curve of the barrier, the round flattening against the wall of psychic energy.

Domino's violet gaze locked with one of vibrant sea green before darting to the left, where it fell upon the pale, slender hand that had shoved her own aside and redirected her shot upward.

Jeanette Fisher smirked confidently at Domino, then, with a whirl of embroidered fabric, pivoted on one leg and kicked the Rocket square in the stomach with a slippered foot. As the Black Tulip was hurled off her feet by the impact, Jeanette lowered her leg back to the floor, simultaneously slipping into a fighting stance. She glanced over her shoulder at Koga.

"I'll take it from here, sir."

With merely a curt nod in the girl's direction, Koga sprinted off down the stands in seach of more Rockets to disable.

"Who the hell are you?" Domino grunted angrily, rising back to her feet in one fluid motion.

"It is customary," Jeanette replied with cold indifference, "to give one's own name before asking for that of another."

"Well then, forget it."

Domino took two rapid steps forward, then, in a flash of black, thrust out with her right arm in a quick punch at Jeanette's head.

Jeanette sidestepped left in response, snaking out her right arm and deflecting Domino's strike with her palm, simultaneously grabbing her wrist. She then turned her hips toward the Rocket and, still holding the wrist, pushed into the arm's elbow with the heel of her left hand. The movements, on top of the redirected force of Domino's punch, sent the Rocket hurtling face-first toward the ground.

The elite 009, however, would not be had so easily. Reacting with great reflexes, she twisted and crooked her right arm at the elbow and kicked off the ground with her left foot, literally flipping over her own arm and landing on her feet, unharmed. She spun quickly to face Jeanette.

"_Aikido_, huh?" the french-curled Rocket snorted dismissively at Jeanette's chosen martial technique. "Pretty lame stuff, if you ask me."

"I agree," Jeanette responded heartily, much to her opponent's surprise. "I just thought I'd avoid the harder arts, so that I might not _break your bones_, _destroy your tendons _or otherwise _hurt you severely,_" she ended with a slight snarl.

"Screw that! Step up your game!" Domino laughed cheekily, snapping out her arm-blade for the third time.

The odd, demure smile back on her face, Jeanette readily obliged her.

---

The situation on the field was at its peak, with Lance and Dragonite unwilling to act, Ash held hostage and Articuno preparing the killing blow. In stark contrast to the action going on in the stands, things looked positively hopeless here.

Ash clenched his teeth tightly, glaring daggers at Tzu as he hung helplessly in the thrall of the alakazam's psychic power. A hundred conflicting thoughts ran rampant in the boy's skull as his oft-underestimated brain struggled to find another way out of its current predicament. None came.

_Nothing for it, then..._

Turning his head ever so slightly, he caught Pikachu's eye, and the pair shared one, final moment of understanding. Wretched the circumstance, hopeless the situation, steel the resolve. No lost causes. No surrender. No retreat.

A wild grin broke across Ash's face.

"DO IT, PIKACHU!"

"PIIIKAAA-_CHUUUU_!"

A screeching cry rose from the back of the Mouse Pokemon's throat as he summoned up every last dreg of electrical energy within his tiny body and hurled it at Articuno with all the force he could muster.

The Thunder assault lanced through the air, accompanied by a sharp crackling sound and the lingering scent of ozone, catching Lance and Giovanni alike by surprise. Even Tzu froze in shock, his extraordinarily powerful brain perceiving the attack, but somehow failing to acknowledge it, as though unable to believe it true.

Articuno, however, was not so limited. Though the Dark Ball in which it had been imprisoned had brainwashed it, tainted its mind almost beyond recognition, and programmed within it the limit of reacting only to the commands of its "master", the ball could not complete defeat the instincts, the will of such a powerful creature. An imminent, life-threatening attack such as Pikachu's massive Thunder was enough to send those instincts surging to the surface of the bird's psyche, and for a brief moment, the Dark Ball's control was overwhelmed by Articuno's will, its _need_, to survive.

The survival instinct of such a great and legendary creature is a profoundly powerful thing. Those few lucky enough to witness what happened over the course of the following seconds, no, less than seconds, would later recall the event with nothing short of outright awe.

Articuno whipped around in midair with speed nearly beyond human comprehension, breaking away from its attack on Lance and Dragonite, and, in the process, hurling a startled Giovanni from its back. As it turned to face the incoming bolt of lighting, an attack was already forming in its mouth, a whirling orb of bluish-white energy. The orb, a huge Water Pulse, flew from its beak and towards the oncoming attack, but even as it did, an Ice Beam materialized between Articuno's beaktips, and before the Water Pulse and Thunder could strike each other, the bird fired the frigid beam into the back of its own previous attack. The watery orb burst in a cascade of frost, the force and chill of the Ice Beam blasting it into a half sphere of pure, thick ice: a makeshift shield.

As Articuno continued pouring its Ice Beam into the rear of the shield, reinforcing the barrier, Pikachu's Thunder struck. The furious electric attack instantly sheared away the better half of the ice shield upon impact, continuing to press against and chip away at the frozen barricade even as Articuno restored it.

The respective attacks' power levels were roughly even. Their owners', however, were not. Within moments, Pikachu's thunderous power was utterly spent, and he slumped forward towards the dirt in exhaustion. Articuno didn't even seem winded.

As pointless as the electric assualt might have seemed, though, it was in fact anything but, for as the powers of thunder and ice collided, seconds had passed. It was not much, but it was time enough, for in those seconds, the instinctive, lightspeed reactions of the remaining combatants decided the outcome of the battle.

Though Tzu was unable to react to Pikachu's attack, he certainly reacted to his trainer's untimely dismount of Articuno. Moving on pure reflex, the alakazam had dropped everything ("everything", in this case, being Ash) to come to his master's aid. Reaching out with his telekinetic strength, he caught Giovanni mid-fall and began lowering the Rocket Boss toward the ground.

Ash, in turn, acted the moment his feet touched the dirt, his nerves empowered by the twin thralls of instinct and adrenaline. His body moved, independent of his mind, as he grabbed at his belt, snatching a Poke Ball at random. It didn't matter who was in it; time alone was of the essence.

The shock of Ash and Pikachu's rash, near-suicidal move stunned Lance, but only for a moment, and even as Tzu dropped Ash to the floor, Dragonite was already on the attack.

Tzu's eyes widened in shock as his head was violently jarred by a heavy impact from behind. He stumbled forward, still conscious, if only barely, forcing his now hazy mind to concentrate on getting Giovanni safely to the ground. Behind Tzu, Squirtle sprung off the ground for a second attack, withdrawing into his thick shell and firing a jet of water at the dirt for extra speed as he rammed into the alakazam's unprotected and vulnerable head in a second, and final, blow.

As Tzu collapsed, defeated by his lack of physical hardiness, Giovanni fell the last few feet to the ground and landed easily on his feet, just in time to see Dragonite making his move, not that there was much to see. The powerful dragon flew at Articuno with such speed that even the legendary bird was unable to react, and tackled the icy avian with a ferocious Dragon Rush.

With a loud impact and a screech of pain, Articuno was knocked from the air. Stunned by Dragon Rush and unable to right itself, the Freeze Pokemon plummeted towards the ground, but Dragonite was not done yet. He dove at Articuno as it fell, and swung himself around in midair. Lance barely managed to maintain his grip as Dragonite whipped his tail down at Articuno in a Slam attack, catching it in the middle of its back and sending it shooting straight down into the ground. It hit the dirt, throwing up clouds of dust, and Lance and Dragonite dove right down after it.

As the ground came up to meet them, Lance leapt from Dragonite's back, touching down on the field just as Dragonite crushed the falled Articuno with a full-force Body Slam. The wind from the sheer force of Dragonite's landing sent Lance's cape into a dramatic flutter as he snapped out an arm, pointing at Giovanni in an equally flashy gesture.

"Do not move! You are under arrest!"

Giovanni, in the midst of adjusting his jacket collar, glanced up at the Champion, and an awkward silence passed between the two men, Lance's finger still hanging impotently in the air. And then Giovanni began to laugh, his hands falling to his sides as he threw back his head, rolling, unabashed peals of laughter flowing from his mouth.

Lance's pointing hand came down at last, balling into a fist at his side.

"You think this is a joke?" the dragon master hissed, his tone unusually cold. "This is the end for you. All of you." He swept out his arm, gesturing toward the stands. "This is the end of Team Rocket, of Giovanni, of everything! Now _get on the damn ground!_"

The laughter ceased.

"Yes..." the crime boss said softly. "Yes, you're right on one count. It begins now. The end of everything begins now."

As the communicator clipped to Giovanni's lapel blinked red, the sound of whirling rotors featured prominently on the air.

Giovanni took the communicator from his jacket and placed it over his ear.

"Speak."

_"Sir, this is Domino. We've got trouble; the Elites have backup. The barriers are coming down, but evac is on its way. ETA is a minute or less."_

"Very well," Giovanni responded, speaking quickly. "Articuno is disabled; secure me a withdrawal unit, then hold the barriers until retrieval arrives. Do not deviate from the plan."

"I don't think you understand," Lance growled, walking towards Giovanni. "Whatever your 'plan' was, it's over now."

"Oh?" Giovanni smirked, raising an eyebrow. "And I suppose you think you can stop me this time? How much can a man change in four years, young Champion? Show me."

Lance reached for his belt, withdrawing an extendable baton from its leather holster. He snapped the telescopic bludgeon out to its full length.

"Oh, I'll show you, alright."


	6. Chapter 5: Guardian

_2/19/09:_

Well, this took _way_ longer than it should have, and I apologize for the wait. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

_- Boss Coffee_

**Chapter Five: Guardian**

_The sun was setting over Viridian City as he approached, flanked by two of his finest lieutenants. His hard-soled boots crunched over quartz gravel as he strode up the short path to the gym. He moved quickly and purposefully, his face a mask of anger barely contained. There was no longer a need for subtlety, for creeping about in the shadows. That time was past._

_Now was the time for action._

_He tested one of the huge, ornate oak doors. It was locked. Hardly a deterrent. In a flash of white light, his partner was at his side, and with one swing of the dragonite's mighty fist, the doors were splinters on the ground. Moonlight poured in through the shattered portal, illuminating dimly the unlit interior of the large building and casting his elongated shadow across the immaculately groomed battlefield within. _

_"Giovanni Sakaki!" he called out, his voice echoing loudly in the empty expanse of the gym. "This is the Kanto Special Police! Present yourself immediately!"_

_He paused, awaiting some sort of response. He scanned every shadowed nook and cranny of the expansive main hall, every muscle and nerve in his body ready to move at the first sign of an attack. _

_None came._

_He turned to face his men, his hazel eyes glinting with the light of the moon as he gestured silently at them with his right hand, giving orders in sign._

_**Move in. Check the remainder of the room. **_

_Silent, efficient and focused, the three men split up, stalking through the main room of the gym, across the width of the field and re-congregating at the far wall. With another series of gestures, he directed his two comrades to check behind the doors on the right and left sides of the hall, respectively. He would take the double doors in the center. _

_**Maintain radio silence. Two taps for backup, three for all clear. Go.**_

_His men separated, moving toward their targets, and he stepped forward, placing his hand on the knob of one of the heavy, wood doors before him. He took a deep breath and, twisting the knob, stepped through the portal. Light greeted him, briefly overwhelming his sight, and then the stark outlines of two tall, broad-shouldered men filled his field of vision, silhouetted by the darkness behind him and the luminescence before him._

_"So," came the voice of the Team Rocket Boss, Giovanni, "you've come at last."_

_The criminal mastermind spoke calmly, almost imperiously, clearly unperturbed by the intrusion of his gym. His suit coat, his signature orange, was slung over one shoulder, and he was fully dressed, as if preparing to leave._

_The man at his side, however, was less demure. He was slightly shorter than Giovanni, but given the Italian's six-and-a-half foot stature, this hardly limited him. Likewise dressed in a full suit, he preferred a black motif with gray pinstripes. His hair was longer as well, likely close to shoulder-length, but was slicked straight back and down his neck._

_"Who do you think you are, bursting into the gym in this manner?" he yelled, his voice deep and booming. "Look at the damage! Explain yourself, immediately!"_

_He moved to confront the intruder, but Giovanni stopped him with a casual wave._

_"There's no need for that, Alan." He sighed. "The game is up. Clearly, our young Champion is here to arrest me, as is his right. Is that correct, my boy?"_

_Taken slightly aback, but determined nonetheless, Lance Blackthorn drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders._

_"That is indeed correct," he said with authority. "You are to be taken into custody immediately under suspicion of organized criminal activity, pokemon poaching, pokemon theft, numerous counts of murder, illegal genetic tampering-"_

_"That's enough," Giovanni said placidly, palm raised. "I willingly admit to the crimes for which I can be held accountable. I will not deny the truth if it be made evident. As a man of this Earth, and as leader of Team Rocket, this is my honor." _

_"You have no honor," Lance hissed, producing a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "I hereby place you under arrest. You have the right to remai-"_

_"__**However**__," Giovanni continued, palm once again raised, "while I acknowledge my supposed crimes in full, I do not abide by or submit to your law. I am caught, indeed, but hardly defeated."_

_"So you'll resist, then?" Lance said evenly, his hand on Dragonite's Poke Ball._

_Giovanni smirked in return, drawing his own Poke Ball._

_"To the bitter end. This, too, is my honor."_

_"Sir!" the man called Alan interjected. "I will face him. Take this time to escape."_

_"Alan," Giovanni said firmly, placing a hand on the man's shoulder, "this is a clash of wills and ideals between two men: the purest form of combat. This is not your battle to fight; you know this."_

_"...Yes... Boss..."_

_..._

_..._

_..._

---

Lance clenched his fists tightly as he watched the Rocket retrieval ships retreating over the horizon, unwilling, or perhaps unable to look away.

"Four years..." he murmured, his voice laced with undertones of anger. "Four years... and you've just become more conniving. Bastard. How could I have been so _stupid_?"

As the outlines of the air transports faded into indistinct shapes in the distance, he at last managed to tear his gaze away from the escaping Rockets and turn back to the problem at hand.

Team Rocket was gone, but the stadium was still in an uproar. Several fires of varying degrees of severity had sprung up in the arena, the result of battles against the criminals. Those in the audience who had chosen not to fight back, whether out of inability or cowardice, were now lamenting the loss of their stolen items, demanding reparation from the most official-looking personage in their field of vision. Massive, perhaps irreparable damage had been dealt to the arena at large. Casualties had yet to be determined. But perhaps worst of all...

"He got away," Ash said simply, joining Lance at the lip of the stadium bowl, Pikachu cradled in his arms. "How... how did he get away?"

For a moment, Lance stared at Ash in silence, his impassive hazel eyes locked with the boy's questioning brown ones. Then he sighed deeply, casting one last glance in the direction of the retreating Rockets before turning back to Ash. When their eye met again, the change in Lance's demeanor was immediately apparent. His expression spoke of great regret... and utter conviction.

"There are things," the dragon master said, "that one cannot do, even in the pursuit of justice. Taking the life is one of them."

"Taking... life?"

"Yes. Life is a right; a sacred right. It is no mere object, and you must never see it as such. That is the difference between people like us... and those such as _him_. He disregards the sanctity of all life, his own included, and that gives him power over us."

"How's that?" Ash pressed.

Seconds passed as Lance took another pause before continuing.

"It is said that the most dangerous man is the one who is not afraid to die. In this case, that saying is altogether too true. He is beyond those who would throw away their lives blindly; he is not so foolish. He does not merely offer up his life; he gambles it. Do you understand?"

"Not... really."

Lance sighed.

"Maybe that's for the best, then." The dragon trainer turned quickly, the heavy fabric of his cape swirling around him as he did. "Come on. We need to help the injured, and there should be a med area set up where you can leave your Pikachu and Charizard."

---

"_Disgraceful!_" Agatha spat. "_Despicable! Abhorrent!_"

"Agatha, please! Calm down!" Bruno said quickly, attempting in vain to placate his irate comrade. "We need to calm them down, not rile them up!"

The crowd looked ready to riot. The shock of the Rockets' sudden attack was finally leaving their systems, readily replaced by anger and confusion. The two emotions, in conjunction, were hardly conducive to calm. Emergency personnel were already on the scene, but the attendees were being less than cooperative. Throngs of people immediately surrounded anyone in a uniform, demanding some sort of attention: bandages and antiseptic for their every cut; compensation and justice for their every loss. It was a struggle just to tend to those who truly needed assistance.

Agatha frowned, the indignant rage finally dropping from her features as she surveyed the situation at hand.

"Very well. We'll have to do this _en masse_. No sense in dragging it out. Oak!"

"Yes, ma'am," Gary said immediately.

"Have you a large flyer?"

"Yeah, my skarmory."

"Excellent. Get it out, and let's head up to the box. We'll have to make a statement. Bruno, take the others and alert the authorities of our presence."

---

_And it was such a nice outfit, too... _Jeanette groaned inwardly as she tied off the torn strip of embroidered fabric around her right shoulder. The wound wasn't exactly life-threatening, but it was bleeding plenty, and the blow that had dealt it had carved up the sleeve anyway- she might as well put it to good use.

Will and Koga sidled up beside Jeanette, casually bickering over whose fault it was that the Rocket forces had managed to retreat.

"If you hadn't gotten tied up with that blondie, we might've dropped the barriers in time!"

"Well, perhaps if you'd been a bit faster yourself..."

"It's not that easy."

Jeanette rolled her eyes at the pair as they approached. "Not exactly our finest hour, eh?" she said, sighing wearily.

"I should say not," Koga responded. "Lance won't be happy."

"Hey, it's not a total loss," Will said. "We saved people a lot of grief, being here. And we captured a lot of their soldiers. Yeah, they got away, but I'd like to think we did good today, you know?"

"There's truth in that," Jeanette said, smiling. "We need to hold on to that optimism."

Koga nodded his assent, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"I'd prefer not to think about it, but we've quite the battle before us. This attack is clearly only the beginning; they'd never be so bold otherwise. Maintaining our courage and solidarity will be vital to our victory."

"Let's go the field," Will said. "I think I see Bruno down there, and Lance'll want to regroup."

---

Gary's skarmory lanced through the air toward the announcer's box. If the metal bird was inhibited by the weight of Gary and Agatha on its back, it certainly wasn't showing it, and in a few short seconds the flight was over. Skarmory touched down gently behind the small structure, and the two trainers dismounted, Agatha once again resisting any help offered and sliding easily off the steel-type's back and onto the floor.

"Quickly now," she said, moving for the door on the rear of the box. "There were no Elites covering this area; they may need help inside."

"I'll go first," Gary said, hand on Agatha's shoulder. "There could be trouble." She nodded, stepping aside, and Gary edged past her, reaching for the door handle.

Suddenly, the door slammed outward with a bang, and a man with a Team Rocket emblem on his hat dashed through the portal. However, he was not alone. As quickly as the grunt had come, a hand shot after him, grabbing him by the back of the collar and pulling him back into the room. There was an impact and a loud grunt, and the man was out the door yet again, this time falling to the pavement accompanied by two of his newly missing teeth.

Dusting his knuckles and looking quite satisfied, Professor Samuel Oak stepped out of the box. He knelt down and grabbed the Rocket, slinging the now-unconscious man's arm over his shoulder.

Gary stared.

"...Grandpa?"

"Ah!" Oak started, noticing his grandson for the first time. "Gary! I'm glad to see you're safe. Help me with him, would you? I need to put him back with the others."

"Um, sure thing, Grandpa."

Gary took the man by his other arm and, together with his grandfather, carried him back inside the announcer's box. As he stepped through the door, he was met by a rather startling sight: on the floor of the small room, in varying degrees of consciousness, were nearly twenty Rocket grunts. Professor Rowan, his heavy coat off and his once-neatly pressed shirt slightly torn, was standing over them, apparently keeping guard. The announcer himself was standing with his back flat against the wall and looked slightly panicked.

"A short return to your youth, Samuel?" Agatha said casually, following the two Oaks into the room.

"Merely attending to matters," Oak said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he and Gary deposited the Rocket on the floor with his fellows. "It _is _my job, in theory."

"Peh! Go back to your beakers and charts. This isn't your place anymore."

"Once a Guardian, always a Guardian," Professor Rowan said gruffly. "We swore an oath to defend the people, and that oath is timeless. Our 'place' lies wherever we are needed."

"As you wish," Agatha muttered.

Gary wandered about the box, marveling at the various unconscious men. "Grandpa, Professor Rowan... you took out all the Rockets in this area on your own?"

"Don't be silly," Oak said, lifting his labcoat to reveal a Poke Ball. "We had plenty of help. Old Arcturus has more than enough strength to give these brutes hell. Of course, John and I were quite the brawlers in our day, too."

"Not enough to stop that pompous bastard, though," Rowan growled, looking irritated at the thought.

"Oh, yes," Oak said, looking a bit miffed himself. "That Chinaman was a handful. I wonder how they got a hold of a man like that..."

"Chinaman?"

Oak nodded at his grandson. "In imperial dress, no less. He seemed to be this lot's commander."

"I've never heard of such a man. Be sure to detail him in your report," Agatha said to Oak before turning toward the still-cowering announcer. "You there, on the wall. You're the MC?"

"Y-yes," the man responded, his voice quavering more than slightly.

"Good. Get on the PA system and announce the presence of the Indigo Elite Four. Tell them we will be making a statement shortly."

"Yes, ma'am."

---

"ATTENTION, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. THE INTERREGIONAL ELITE FOUR ARE PRESENT IN THE STADIUM AND WILL BE ISSUING A STATEMENT SHORTLY. IN LIGHT OF THE CURRENT CIRCUMSTANCES, WE ASK YOU TO REMAIN CALM AND LISTEN TO THE AUTHORITIES. I REPEAT, THE ELITE FOUR WILL BE ISSUING A STATEMENT. PLEASE REMAIN CALM AND OBEY THE AUTHORITIES."

The announcer's over-amplified voice boomed out across the field yet again, forcibly holding the attention of all those present, most notably a certain dragon master. Lance nodded absently in the direction of the box; one of his Elites had acted quickly, probably Agatha. The former Champion was usually the first to move, despite her age, and Lance had always used her proactive style of leadership as a model for his own. He reached for Dragonite's Poke Ball, intending to fly up to the box.

"Lance! Hey!"

Will's voice. Lance turned toward the origin of the shout to find the psychic Elite walking quickly toward him, flanked by Koga, Bruno and Jeanette.

At Lance's side, Ash twitched involuntarily. It was really the Elite Four. The _Elite Four _were here.

"Report," Lance said immediately.

"We engaged the Rockets," Bruno responded, stepping forward to fulfill his position as the highest ranked in the group, "but were unable to defeat them before they retreated. At least one Administrator-level Rocket was confirmed, but we believe he has escaped. Numerous suspects have been apprehended, and a large percentage of the stolen items have been recovered."

Lance nodded sharply.

"We did what we could, given the circumstances. Will?"

The psychic trainer drew a Poke Ball without a word, releasing his espeon, and the Elites and Jeanette gathered around the purple, vulpine creature. The air around the group rippled slightly, signifying the beginning of a mass teleport.

Lance turned away suddenly, his eyes on the boy who had accompanied him thus far, the one who was now standing back, looking unsure. He raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, Ash. We don't have all day."

He had managed to stand in silence until now, but suddenly, Ash felt as though he were about to hyperventilate. Here he was, in the presence of the Kanto-Johto Champion and three of the Elite Four. Excepting Will, he'd met them all before, but never all at once, and Koga had still been a Gym Leader. Now they were all here, and Lance was asking him to join them... It was almost too much. He swallowed reflexively.

"Y-yeah."

Trying hard not to tremble, he joined the group gathered around espeon, and in a brief flash of light, the six trainers were gone.

---

"Please, sir, calm down. It's really not that bad..." Misty pleaded in a desperate attempt at consolation as she knelt beside the man lying on the bleachers. He was hardly injured at all: the cut on his left elbow barely qualified as worthy of attention, let alone the life-threatening wound he was making it out to be.

"Are you sure? No... no! Look at all that blood! It's everywhere! I can't make it to the medical tent; you'll have to carry me!"

"Sir, you're nearly three times my size; that's impossible!"

"I'm BLEEDING OUT, HERE!" he yelled, hysterical, reaching out at Misty with a quavering hand. She stepped back, preparing herself for whatever might happen next, when suddenly, a rough, tanned hand closed around the injured man's wrist.

"Sir, calm yourself," Brock said kindly but firmly, stepping fully between the man and Misty. "We're doing the best we can. You'll get the attention you need, I promise, but I need you to make your way to the medical area _on your own_. Can you do that for me?"

The man stared at Brock's face for a moment, and the rock trainer smiled reassuringly at him, watching as the shock as hysteria gradually left his features. A moment later, the man nodded mutely and stood, heading down the stands toward the medical tent that had been erected on the field.

As he watched the man leave, Brock scratched at his spiky hair, groaning quietly. "Jeez, what a mess... You all right, Misty?"

"Fine," Misty said quickly, standing as well. "...I could've handled that, y'know."

"I know, but I was worried you'd knock him out or something," Brock responded, grinning, expecting a witty rejoinder from his old friend. But none came. A bit surprised, he turned toward Misty to find her gazing out across the expanse of the stadium, her eyes passing carefully over the crowd gathered on the field.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, getting her attention, and nodded knowingly. "He's tough; it's something he's proven time and time again. I'm sure he's fine. Besides, _Lance_ was down there with him."

"I know," Misty said quietly, eyes on her feet. "I know we've been through stuff like this before, but I just can't help it. This... it wasn't like before. We've been caught in fights worse than this, but it's more than that... I can't really explain it. It's just... _different_. ...I'm scared, Brock."

"Yeah," Brock agreed, a serious look on his face. "I know what you mean. I'm scared too, incredibly so, but we've gotta have faith and fight through the fear. If we can do that, they'll never win against us."

"I know... ...God, that's all I can say: 'I know'. It's pathetic."

"No it's not," Brock said, resolute. "In the end, all we have is that assurance. I _know_ my friends are okay, and I know they know_ I'm _okay. That's why I can press onward without looking back."

"Pfft!" Air escaped Misty's lips as she tried to stifle a sudden laugh. "What the heck does _that_ mean? You sound like a boys' cartoon!"

"Cut me a break, okay? I'm trying to sound cool here!" Brock protested jokingly. "...But hey, I made you laugh, right?"

"I suppose you did." She smiled. "...Hey, check it out."

Brock's eyes followed the path of Misty's pointed finger to the enormous television screen built into the opposite side of the area. On it was the ruffled figure of the master of ceremonies, a microphone set before him.

"YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE," boomed the announcer's voice over the loudspeakers. "PRESENTING LANCE BLACKTHORN, INTERREGIONAL MAINLAND CHAMPION, AND THE INTERREGIONAL ELITE FOUR."

As the MC finished his announcement, the camera shifted, and Misty's breath caught in her throat. The new angle framed Lance, sitting before a microphone at the announcer's table, with his four Elites standing at his back. Joining them were the two professors, Jeanette, Gary, and...

"Ash!" exclaimed Misty and Brock simultaneously, twin looks of relief and joy on their faces.

On the screen, Lance laced his fingers on the table, his expression one of the utmost seriousness. His magnified visage stared down at the assembled crowd in silence, waiting for the rabble to die down. As the onlookers quieted, he began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, people of Kanto, men and women of the Pokemon League, hear me. On this day, we have borne witness to a travesty, a heinous act of terrorism committed by dark men. This was a strike against the heart of our society, the very symbol of our integrity: our _League_. They wish to wound us, to cripple us with brute force and fear as their weapons and defeat us thusly, by foul means.

"...But we will _not_ be defeated. We will _not_ be cowed. Fear is all they have against us, but we shall take from them even that, for we _shall not fear_. We, as one, will show these terrorists our resolve. We will show them that we do not fear, and for good reason. What is a single organization against the power of a nation? We are stronger and braver than they, but not only must we realize this for ourselves; we must show _them_ as well. To that end, I, as your Champion, and all of my Elites will fight. We will work in tandem with the government, as we have in the past, to bring those responsible for this attack to justice.

"Now, many of you here are victims of theft, both of your possessions... and your partners. I can only imagine the pain of your loss. But I promise you, I swear by the honor of my station, that I will do all in my power to return to you what has been taken. I, the Elite Four, the police: all of us together will ensure that justice is done for the perpetrators and victims of this crime alike. We shall become your sword and your shield, and by the grace of God, we shall defend you without fail, so do not fear. _Never _fear, _never _waver, and _together _we shall turn their only weapon back upon them. Thank you."

With a curt nod from the Champion, the screen went black.

Over the course of Lance's speech, the stadium had descended into an utter hush, one that endured several seconds after the statement's end. Then, in the midst of the pause, a cheer broke out, then another, and suddenly, like a sonic wave, the applause rippled outward and across the arena. As the noise reached its peak, it easily matched the volume of the tournament's highest point, perhaps even surpassed it.

It was only natural. Even in the moments following their darkest hour, at the height of their discord, the people of Kanto heard the words of their Champion and hung on every one. For those in attendance of the tourney especially, Lance Blackthorn was a symbol of greatness, of passion and hope and many things besides. Perhaps even more than the heads of the government, he was a man that was seen as someone to be trusted, and not only due to his station. Though the Regional Champion was traditionally, if not officially, a protector of the people, Lance had developed a reputation for going above and beyond the call of duty. Eternally in the public eye, he used his status to sponsor charities and fundraisers. He made concentrated efforts to assist law enforcement and emergency personnel whenever possible, to the point of becoming an official government employee. Simply put, he was a hero to the people, a guardian angel, and they regarded him as such. They believed in their hearts that if Lance said it was going to be alright, it was going to be alright. And it would be.

He was determined to make it so.

---

As the setting sun painted the horizon a vibrant hue of orange, the last of the crowd vacated the stadium. Ash and his friends had decided to stay along with the Elites and assist in controlling the situation, but despite that, and all the efforts of the emergency personnel on the scene, it had been hard going. Even Lance's presence failed to completely quell the chaos, and in the end, the aftermath of Team Rocket's attack had taken nearly six hours to sort out. Now, with the action slowing at last, a large portion of the group settled down in the now empty medical area to rest.

Will threw himself into a folding chair inside the hastily erected medical tent, letting out a mock sigh of relief. At some point over the past several hours, he'd at last removed his aviator sunglasses, replacing them with his trademark violet eyemask. Dipping his head to allow his long hair to hang down, he removed the mask, wiped his brow with his sleeve, and replaced it.

"Better," the psychic muttered to himself.

On Will's left, Koga chuckled quietly at his comrade. "Quite an ordeal that turned out to be."

"No joke," Will agreed earnestly. "I'd almost rather be fighting the Rockos than dealing with distraught civilians, you know?"

"Amen, brother," Jeanette said with a light laugh, snipping the length of gauze around her arm from its roll and securing the end. "That was a nightmare."

She flexed experimentally and, finding the dressing satisfactory, turned away from the med table and back toward the assembled group. "How about you, Ash? Holding up okay?"

"I _would_ be," Ash said, rolling his eyes, "if Misty would stop asking me that same damn question. I'm obviously alive and well, aren't I? It seems pretty clear to _me_."

Ash cringed as a hand smacked into the back of his head.

"Don't be such a jerk," Gary chided. "You saw how crazy it got out there, and you were right in the thick of it all. You're lucky to be alive; you can't seriously blame her for worrying about you."

"But I _am_ alive! I'm very clearly just fine! And you don't even get to _talk _about being a jerk."

"Ugh, you're such an idiot."

"See! Right there! Jerk!"

Gary opened his mouth argue further but was interrupted by the tent flaps fluttering as Lance stepped through the opening, followed by Agatha, Bruno, Misty and Brock. The young Oak looked over the group. "Where are Grandpa and Professor Rowan?"

"Still outside," Bruno announced in his deep baritone. "They're talking to some brown-haired woman."

"My mother, probably," Ash groaned, anticipating the fussy, maternal check-over that he was sure to receive shortly.

Koga got up from his chair, approaching Lance. "Have you reached Noland?" he whispered, leaning in close to his leader's ear.

"I told him everything," the dragon master whispered back. "He's contacted Brandon. We're to meet them at headquarters ASAP."

Koga nodded. "Have you come to a decision regarding the boy?"

"I have," Lance said with a small smile. "Agatha and the professors agree. There's not much else we can do, is there?"

Koga returned Lance's smile. "I, too, agree. Shall we, then?"

"Yes. Best to do it now, and quickly." Lance turned away from Koga and walked over to Ash.

Ash stood immediately, almost on reflex. He had spent the better part of the day in the Champion's company, but even now, being in the man's presence filled him with inexplicable awe. "S-sir?"

"Ash. Today you have displayed exemplary courage and strength of will. Your selfless actions during today's crisis aided us greatly; you are as much a hero as any of us. First and foremost, I thank you for that."

"No- I mean-! Um... thank you, sir, for your... thanks."

Lance laughed. "Don't be so tense! The last thing I need is for my comrades to be afraid of me."

"C-comrades?"

"Yes, Ash," Koga cut in. "Comrades. You are a skilled trainer, no, more than skilled. With time, you may stand among the best, but more importantly, you have a natural inclination toward selflessness."

"In the short time we have known you," Lance continued, " you have proven time and again to be a hero, both today and in prior, individual interactions with each of us. You consistently put the needs of others before your own and have fought on numerous occasions solely for the sake of others, and that, above all else, is what we are looking for."

"We? You mean the... the Elite Four?"

"No, Ash. The Guardians."

"Guardians?"

Lance leaned in close to Ash's face. "Can I trust you with a secret?"

"Absolutely, sir."

Lance looked over his shoulder at Koga and Bruno, gesturing toward the door, and the pair nodded back.

"Misty, Brock," Bruno addressed each Gym Leader in turn, "please follow us." Brock nodded, but Misty paused apprehensively, and Bruno placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it; he'll be fine. We'll explain everything soon."

With that, the four departed, leaving Lance, Ash, Agatha, Jeanette and Gary alone in the tent.

"Well, now..." Lance mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Where to begin?"

"The beginning is usually the best place," Agatha drawled sarcastically. "Young man, how old are you?"

"I'll be fifteen in a little over a month."

"Fourteen, then. Very well. ...Lance, what say you?"

"He's young; there's no dodging around that, but from what I've seen and heard, I think he's more than capable."

"Hardly the point, Blackthorn. Think of the legal issues. The boy's parents. What will you tell them?"

"Nothing," Lance said matter-of-factly. "Lawfully, the Guardians don't even exist. If his parents' prying becomes an issue, we can tell them he's joined a public division... Rangers or something."

"Pardon me, sir, but he hasn't even decided whether or not to join yet," Gary interrupted, bowing slightly to show deference. "We should probably present him his options before worrying about the technicalities."

"Wait, _Gary's_ in on this, too?!" Ash burst out.

"He's not the only one," Jeanette said with a small smile.

Ash goggled at her. "You, too?! What _is_ this 'Guardian' stuff anyway? Did I miss the big memo or something?"

Lance tried and failed to restrain a laugh. "You didn't miss a thing, Ash, and Oak is right: we should bring you up to speed before anything else."

"By all means," said a visibly dazed Ash.

"There's not much time," Agatha said quickly, her voice hushed, "so I'll make this fast. We are all members of an elite peacekeeping force, the Guardians. We are sanctioned by the government to operate beyond the bounds of common law, outside of the public eye. We are responsible for going where state forces cannot go and doing things they cannot do. We are the invisible protectors of this nation, and to a certain degree, this _world_. I am telling you this because we have decided you are trustworthy and selfless enough to keep our secrets and, if you are willing, join our cause. So, Ash, what do you say?"

Ash could only stare. Join them? Join the _Elite Four_ as a member of a top-secret organization? It had to be a joke, maybe some sort of television prank show. Gary was about to bust out laughing at any second, and some pompadour-sporting TV host and a dozen cameramen would pop out of nowhere and expose the whole thing as a huge practical joke. Team Rocket? Articuno? Guardians? Never happened, right? _Right?_

"Come on, Ash." Lance's foot tapped out an even tempo on the floor. "We're on a tight schedule, what with this attack, and we'd like to take you in for basic training straight away."

"Buh-HUH?" was the most intelligent response Ash could manage on the spot. "...I- I mean, you're _serious_? This is crazy! What about my mother? What do I tell her? And Misty and Brock, what about them?"

Lance sighed. "Miss Waterflower and Mister Harrison are being informed of the situation as we speak, and I believe that Professors Oak and Rowan are filling in your mother as well. I assure you, all of your prior contacts and engagements will also be handled accordingly; after all, our own security depends on it."

"But how? I'd like to help, I really would. Heck, it'd be an _honor_, sir, but can you really cover for me? I mean, this sounds like serious stuff, with the training and all. It's like, all of a sudden, I'd be disappearing for months. Won't they get suspicious?"

"I lead the Guardians, Ash," Lance said, "on top of my responsibilities as Champion, and my public service works. Believe me when I say that this sort of double life is fully possible."

Gary smirked. "You believed me when I said I was going off to be a researcher, right Ash? It's not as hard as it looks."

"The fact that your friends are both Gym Leaders makes it all the more seamless," Lance added. "All the other Kanto Gym Leaders are already part of our network, Miss Waterflower's eldest sister and Mister Harrison's father included. It'd be all too easy to integrate them as well. Your mother will likely be told that you are joining the Pokemon Ranger Forces, which is in fact an offshoot of our own organiza-"

"No need for that," Professor Oak cut Lance off as he entered the tent, Professor Rowan and Delia Ketchum behind him. "We've told Delia everything."

"Sir!" Lance said with a bow. "Is that wise? Our security is of the utmost importance; we can't afford any leaks. Are you sure she's trustworthy?"

"My boy," Oak huffed, "have you any idea who this woman is? For that matter, who her _son_ is? They are the _Ketchum_ family!"

"Of... of _Simon_?"

"His very daughter-in-law." Oak nodded sagely.

And suddenly, to Ash's shock, Lance Blackthorn himself bowed to Delia so deeply his body formed a near-right angle. Perhaps even more startlingly, Agatha did her best to mimic the motion. "It is my honor to meet you," the elite pair said in tandem.

"No, no, that's really not necessary!" Ash's mother waved her hands about, flustered. "It's a pleasure to meet you all; my name is Delia Ketchum."

Ash watched as his mother shook hands with Lance and Agatha. Even Jeanette and Will rose to introduce themselves to her.

"Mom..." the boy mouthed, in awe of his mother's apparent clout. "What's... going on?"

"I'm not really sure myself! Something about your grandfather, I believe. Your father's father. I never really knew him, though..." Delia said, pressing a finger to her chin. "Anyway! Have you decided on this Guardian business? It sounds so exciting!"

"...You're okay with it?" Ash said, surprised.

Delia smiled brightly, stepping over to her son and looping her arms around his shoulders. "Ash, I will always support you, no matter where you choose to go, no matter what you choose to do. It's in your blood to chase your dreams. I should know; I was married to your father, after all!

"...I trust you to make the right decisions and to keep yourself safe, and that's all that matters to me. This decision is up to you alone."

"Wow... Mom... thank you," Ash stuttered as his mother released him. "Though, to be honest, I don't really know what to do. Do you really think I'm cut out for this Guardian stuff?"

Delia smiled, lifting the bill of Ash's cap to push a lock of bushy, black hair out of his face. "That's something you need to discover for yourself."

"For what it counts, Ash, I think you'd make a fine Guardian," Lance said, clapping a hand on the young trainer's shoulder.

"Me, too, actually," Gary said rather reluctantly, crossing his arms. "You've got a long way to go before you're on _my _level of course, but..."

"Okay, I'll do it," Ash interjected determinedly.

"Are you certain?" Agatha asked seriously. "As I'm sure you know, there is more at stake here than your personal rivalry. There's a lot of responsibility involved in the decision you are about to make. Are you willing to accept that responsibility?"

"I am. I've seen for myself what lurks out there, today especially, and I'd like to do everything I can to protect people from that evil. Enough is enough. I can't let innocent people be victimized by the likes of Team Rocket anymore, and I can't think of a better way to do it than by joining with you."

Agatha's wrinkled face broke into a smile. "Spoken like a true Guardian... No, a true Ketchum. Your grandfather would be proud, very proud."

"That he would," Professor Oak said, and Professor Rowan nodded in agreement.

"You knew my grandpa?" Ash asked the older three, visibly intrigued.

"Very well," Oak confirmed. "We created the Guardians together, long ago. It was his idea, as a matter of fact."

"He was a great man. A visionary and a hero," Rowan said.

"You see, Ash?" Lance grinned. "You'll be a great Guardian yet."

"Sir!" The assembled jumped slightly at the sound of Koga's shout, and turned to find his head sticking through the tent flaps. "Our transport is here," the ninja elite informed his superior. "We should depart immediately."

"Right you are," Lance said, turning on his heel to face his troops. "Oak, Fisher, Erdgeist, Gewalt... and Ketchum! Let's go!"

At Lance's back, Gary, Jeanette, Agatha, Will and Ash exited the tent to a vision of halogen-saturated dusk. In the center of the field, the stadium spotlights illuminated a rotor-powered air transport that looked like a cross between a large helicopter and a plane. It was a formidable craft, its overall girth just barely contained by the width of the field. The wings were short, relative to the size of the body, and were roughly square, with a rotor set into the center of each. Smaller stabilizing rotors were set likewise in the tail fins. The rear of the craft was facing the tent, and a hydraulic bay door lay open at the craft's end, creating a ramp up into the belly of the ship.

Ash dimly registered that he should have heard the sound of such a thing landing, and that it was a testament to just how distracted he'd been that he hadn't.

"That's an Orukahn," Lance informed his newest recruit, "our standard transport aircraft. It's named after a species of pokemon from the western seas, but we call it an 'Orca', for short. They're manufactured in the United States, technically for military use only, but the NDF lent us a few for our own purposes."

"The Defense Force? You guys have that kind of pull?"

"And more. ...Ah, there's Bruno with your friends," the Champion jerked a thumb toward the side of the field, where Brock and Misty stood alongside the massive Bruno. "If you've got something to say to them, Ash, say it now; we're on a tight schedule. You've got five minutes."

"Yes, sir," Ash said with a nod, heading off to meet Misty and Brock.

"Right then!" Lance addressed the remainder of his group. "I'll tie things up down here. The rest of you, get strapped in! And Oak... I'm sitting shotgun, got that?"

"Yeah, yeah."

---

"So I guess they told you guys what's what, right?" Ash asked, jogging up to Misty and Brock.

"Yup," Brock said, arms crossed. "I've got to admit, though, I didn't see this one coming. You're really going, huh?"

"Yeah. I figure this is a once in a lifetime chance, y'know? I mean, when _Lance Blackthorn_ asks you to do something, it's gotta be a good idea."

Bruno, who had stood silent behind the Gym Leaders until now, let out a laugh, but said nothing more.

"Do you know how long you'll be gone?" Misty asked.

"No clue," Ash said somewhat sheepishly. "Lance said everything would be taken care of, though, and it's not like we're dropping by my place to pick up luggage or anything. How long could it be?"

"Actually," Bruno cut in, "your luggage will be shipped to you. Meanwhile, our headquarters should be able to provide adequate supplies. Considering what's been happening, it could be some time before your training begins, let alone is completed. You're in for the long haul, friend."

"Well, there ya go, then," said Ash, shrugging at his friends.

"How long are we talking?" Misty asked Bruno.

"Could be a month or less, all goes well. On the other hand, it could be up to five. It all depends on what happens with this Rocket situation and Ash's own aptitude. Training goes a lot faster when you're a quick learner. Don't worry too much, though, he'll get plenty of opportunities to visit home regardless of what happens; we're not the military or anything."

"Well that's a relief," came Delia Ketchum's voice as she sidled up behind her son, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "And you'd better call, Ash! _Write_ if you have to, understand?"

"Yeah, Mom, I love you too..."

"And as long as we're on the subject, it wouldn't kill you to call _me_ sometimes, either, right?" Misty quipped, hands on her hips.

As Ash shared a final laugh with his friends and family, Lance approached.

"Ash, come on. We have to go," the Guardian leader said, looking apologetic. "Miss Waterflower. Mister Harrison." Lance gave each Gym Leader a firm handshake. "Professors Rowan and Oak are staying behind as well. You'll receive any information you need from them."

"I'm trusting you with my son, Mister Blackthorn," Delia said as she shook Lance's hand. "Keep him safe."

"I will, ma'am. You ready, Ash?"

"I'm ready. I'll see you soon, guys. Bye, Mom."

The trio embraced Ash, at his mother's behest, as one, and as they released him, he took his place at Lance's side.

It was only then, it would later occur to him, that everything was set into motion. Three steps. Three steps he took from the arms of his friends and family. Three steps he took toward a new life as a Guardian. His life changed then, for better or worse, for it was only then, as he took those scant few steps away from his past and toward his future, that fate truly took hold of Ash Ketchum. At that moment, destiny was forever altered.

High above the stadium walls, a butterfree was flying.

---

Elsewhere, in a dimly-lit, nondescript room, devoid of windows (and seemingly doors as well), two figures sat at opposing ends of a long, rectangular table. A tall man, recognizable as the Team Rocket leader who had introduced himself as Giovanni, was sitting in silence, hands folded before his face. His companion, the young man called "Marco", was not so quiet.

"THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE OUTRAGE! INEXCUSABLE FAILURE!" he roared, his long hair flipping about as he jerked his head in the older man's direction. "EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"

"My apologies, Marco, sir. I was not expecting such interference from the boy. I have no excuse; it was my own error and weakness that resulted in the failure of the mission. Forgive me."

Marco narrowed his dark eyes at his comrade, and seconds passed between the two men as the younger stared at the elder, impassive, yet somehow infinitely intimidating. The Rocket boss stared back, attempting to read the intentions set in those dark eyes and finding nothing. Truly, this one was his father's son.

He swallowed, covertly disguising the nervous reflex with his folded hands and and twist of his neck as if to crack it. He could feel a single bead of sweat forming at the nape of his neck. Then...

"_Hahahahaha!_" Marco suddenly burst out laughing, and his companion relaxed, if only barely. There was no telling what was next.

The young man composed himself shortly and began to speak, this time in an even, serious tone. "You'll have to forgive me, old friend; I simply adore watching people squirm. There's no need for apology. In fact, you played your part masterfully."

"...Marco," the Boss cut in, confused, "the Indigo operation was a resounding failure. We gained almost nothing of worth and lost over fifty soldiers. How could-" He paused suddenly, stopped by a single raised finger from Marco.

"What we _gained_ was something of much worth," the youth said, with the manner of a teacher correcting an ignorant pupil. "What we gained was _attention_: the most crucial piece of this puzzle I'm assembling. The soldiers are a lamentable loss, I admit, but in the end, they are quite disposable. Believe me when I say that today's efforts were entirely worthwhile."

"Our resources are not without limit," the Rocket leader said, his voice hard. "If we continue to be this reckless, we shall eventually be without manpower in entirety."

This elicited a small chuckle from Marco. "Oh, I'm counting on it," he said, brushing a few long, red hairs out of his grinning face.

The older criminal cocked an brow at his youthful counterpart. "Marco, what is going on here? This attack, what was it for, really? Our soldiers and Administrators, myself, even the Omega-1... It's as though we've deliberately shown them our entire hand in the first round. What are you thinking?"

Marco smirked. "Well. It appears you possess some intelligence after all. Unfortunately, I cannot divulge that information; it is simply not important for you to know. Have patience, my friend. The answers will come in time."

"No, Marco, no more mind games. I trust you, but I cannot allow you to be this careless with Team Rocket's assets without knowing what you intend to do with them."

"I shall withhold from you whatever information I see fit. It is not your place to know until I decide to tell you. You would do well to remember, Alan, that your era has ended along with _that man_. This is _my_ time, _my_ rule, and you are here on my charity alone. Your insight is of great value to me, but you are still my subordinate after all. It is not your place to know, and it is _certainly_ not your place to _allow_. Understand?"

"...Very well... Boss."

---

High over the cities of Kanto, a lone aircraft made its way across the night sky, destined for the Guardian base. In the transport's rear bay, Ash Ketchum reclined as best he could in his stiff plastic seat, sandwiched between Gary and Jeanette on the bay wall.

The young Oak took note of his friend's fidgeting. "Nervous, Ashy-boy?" he called over the sound of whirring rotors.

"Not really. I just feel like I've forgotten something... ....Oh, _crap_! That's it! _I forgot about Richie again!_"

_**Don't worry, Ash. You're not the only one...**_


	7. Chapter 6: Wake Up

_4/22/09: A hearty "thank you" goes out from us to all of you who have read this far, and an even heartier one to those who have taken the time to leave a review. You are the ones keeping Origins alive and afloat._

_Now, onwards. We're straying a bit more from anime canon, here. I'll be using the game version of a certain character who I'd prefer NOT to be ten feet tall and dumb as bricks, but don't worry, it won't muck up the character's dynamic any. If you don't know who I'm talking about, you will._

_That's all for now. Stay classy, FFN._

_- Boss Coffee_

**Chapter Six: Wake Up **

Majestic. Beautiful. Mystical. Deadly. Horrifying. Treacherous. All words used to describe the inimitable, stony might of Mt. Silver.

Located due west of Indigo Plateau, the great mountain created the natural border that divided the Japanese mainland into the Johto and Kanto regions. And quite a border it was, too: Silver bore the second tallest peak in all of Japan, surpassed only by the leviathan Mt. Coronet of Sinnoh. Approaching four thousand meters in height and perpetually capped with frost, the famous Silver was a sacred treasure to the nation's people. The entire mountain and its surroundings were designated as a protected area by the Japanese government; the average person had little hope of setting foot on the hallowed mountain, and even the airspace around the mountain aerie was highly restricted. As a result, Mt. Silver positively abounded in natural spendor, utterly untouched by human industrial presence. Trees grew thick around its base, and wild pokemon gathered around it in quantities unmatched in virtually any other area. The lone human-populated area in the vicinity was tiny Silver Town, nestled at the base of the mountain. The town was the annual host of the Johto League Silver Conference and a popular site for tourists, as it was the closest most of them could get to the mountain itself and, of course, the only source of comfortable lodging in the area.

However, though the great mountain was a ready source of some of Japan's most awe-inspiring scenery, it was also well known as one of the country's most dangerous areas. As a result of the mountain's status as a national treasure, paths and roads on the mountain were mostly rough-hewn and unkempt, if they existed at all, and many were relics of a bygone age, when mankind braved the mountain for the first time. Paved roads were few and far-between, and were for use by state agents exclusively. Landslides and rockfalls were commonplace; efforts to hinder their occurences were solely for the sake of preserving the landscape and the few roads used by state personnel. In winter, Silver became more treacherous still. Falling snow manifested danger in the form of avalanches and snow-ins, occasionally forcing the preserve to close itself to visitors entirely.

Terrain and inclement weather, however, were the least of a traveler's worries. Mt. Silver's true lethality lay in its native creatures. Centuries of isolation in harsh climes bred a population of pokemon unique in all of Japan. Deliberately kept free of human influence, constantly fighting for survival, the pokemon of Mt. Silver became immensely powerful and just as territorial. Mighty and tempermental ursaring prowled the forests at the mountain's base. Giant donphan and vampiric golbat dwelled in the network of caverns deep beneath the tor. Most terrifying, though, were the clans of "Tarrasque", larvitar, pupitar and tyranitar, that made their home in the deepest recesses of the caves. Here alone did tyranitar exist in the wild, and thankfully so, for their rage and strength in combat knew no equal.

It is because of these myriad dangers that the government and Pokemon League had sealed the Mt. Silver area from all but the strongest of trainers, those whose strength extended beyond their pokemon to their own bodies and minds. Even then, only a portion of the mountain's southern face and the area surrounding it were open to the trainers. This area, dubbed "the Ridge", was heavily patrolled by pokemon Rangers, both to ensure the trainers' safety and the preservation of the natural order. All told, Mt. Silver was a near-impregnable fortress, defended by natural and human forces alike.

So one can imagine Ash's surprise as the Orca began its descent toward the mountain's snowy peak.

"_We're above Silver; passing over the Ridge now_," called Lance's voice over a speaker at the head of the Orca's rear bay. "_We're holding for all clear, but we should be touching down shortly_."

"_Winds are high 'round the Aerie tonight_," came a second voice, deep and masculine, presumably that of the aircraft's pilot. "_Things might get choppy, so make sure you're strapped in tight_."

It occurred to Ash that the voice was familiar, but he ignored the thought, instead marveling at the base's apparent location. "Your base! It's on the _Ridge_?" he yelled to Gary over the sound of the rotors.

"Are you kidding? The Ridge is wide open! Did you forget the part where the Guardians are a _secret _organization?"

"Then where-?"

"The north face!"

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Of course! No one in their right mind would go there; that's why it's perfect."

"_Clearance recieved. We're heading down._"

The Orca lurched downward, breaking through the last of the clouds and into the clear night sky. Roaring wind buffeted the craft as it continued its descent, rattling its occupants in their hard plastic seats, and it suddenly occurred to Ash how much of a nuisance his coccyx could be. The craft passed over the mountain's peak and beyond, getting gradually lower as it went, before looping back in a tight turn made possible only by its unique propulsion system.

Ash jolted in his seat as the Orca leveled out coming out of the turn, again courtesy of the independent rotors. "Good lord," he muttered. "I think I'm going to be sick." A gurgling noise sounded from somewhere within his sweater vest. Apparently, Pikachu assented.

"You get used to it." Gary shrugged. "A time'll come when you're thankful for these things' manuverability; trust me."

"That's cool, but now is obviously not that time."

"Chill, kid," Will called out to Ash from his seat on the opposite wall. "Feel that? We're decelerating. ...The gate's opening..." He held up a pointed finger, eye rolled upward. "Wait for it... wait for ittt... aaand, we're in!"

"How often do you guys do this?" Ash asked the masked elite, incredulous.

"Hardly ever." Will chortled. "We usually use a tunnel system, but this is a bit of special occasion. Time's of the essence, you know?"

"...Then how-?"

"I'm psychic, kid. Just looking at what Lance is looking at. ...Don't tell him, though; he hates it when I do stuff like that."

Ash nodded mutely. _Mental note: Try not to do any thinking around Mr. Gewalt... I mean-! Crap!_

Shaking his head, Ash did his best to distract himself from the fact that he was in the company of a mind reader and concentrated instead on trying to deduce what was going on outside the Orca's walls. There was a muted 'clunk' sound; the landing gear deploying, he surmised, followed by a slight bump as the aircraft touched down. As the sound of the rotors dulled, he breathed a sigh of relief. Solid ground at last... Now if only he could get rid of the pressure in his ear canals, everything would be fine...

"Home, sweet, frigid, rocky home," Gary said with a smirk, and his comrades expressed varying degrees of mirth as they unclipped their restraints.

Ash followed suit, though he looked more nervous than cheerful. This was it, after all. The decision was made and the wait over. There was no turning back, and no stalling for time. He stared blankly at the Orca's rear hatch. When that bay door opened, what would be be waiting beyond?

With a pneumatic hiss, the steel portal prepared its answer.

Even before the rear hatch touched the ground, cacophonous noise greeted Ash's ears, shouts figuring prominently over the sounds of men and machines at work. The boy took a moment to ponder the apparent magnitude of the Guardians' operation, and as the hatch-ramp lowered fully, his appreciation grew yet more. The group inside the bay filed out, stretching various limbs as they went, but Ash barely registered following them out, so awed was he by what he saw.

The Orca had landed inside what Ash would later learn was the Guardian's main hangar bay and the entrance to their headquarters. The room before him, walled with stone and reinforced with steel bars, was essentially a large hollow carved from the mountain itself at an altitude of roughly 2,000 meters, about halfway to the peak. The cavernous structure was large enough to contain the Orca, plus two small, fixed-wing aircraft and a powerful-looking helicopter. A long tunnel on the far wall, the one they had entered through, served as both the runway for the planes and an external access point for the ultra-manuverable Orcas, and a small structure built high on the wall to Ash's right appeared to be a control tower for the miniature, indoor airfield. Fifteen-odd men, presumably the maintenance crew, dashed about the smooth paved hangar, readying their equipment for the servicing of the Orca.

"So," Jeanette said to Ash, smiling. "What do you think?"

"My god..." Ash said in wonderment, gaping openly at the towering stone walls. "This is incredible. That I never knew this was here... That _nobody _knows that it's here..."

"'Incredible' doesn't even begin to describe it," Gary said, clapping a hand on Ash's shoulder with a smirk. "You haven't even seen the best part."

"No kidding," came the still-familiar voice of the Orca's pilot as the man walked up to Ash's side, a visored helmet still clamped over his head. He was very tall, broad, and square-jawed; overall, he looked incredibly strong fit, even beneath the thick material of his grey flight suit. "Try lookin' behind ya, kid."

Ash complied, and was subsequently floored by what he saw. Pikachu, perched atop Ash's head, jerked suddenly, almost falling off entirely.

Contrary to what Ash had thought before, the hangar was not entirely walled with stone. In fact, very little of the hangar was walled with stone, and what he'd seen after stepping out of the Orca, what he'd thought was the entirety of the hangar, that incredible sight, was laughable in comparison to what had been behind him, what he was seeing now. Before him was a steel expanse upon the likes of which he'd never before laid eyes. The entire rear wall of the stone portion of the hangar, the only wall he hadn't seen, was not a wall at all: it was more of a door. A door as tall and wide as the stone "hangar" itself, leading to a room that dwarfed the former by a multiple of three or more, walled not with mountain stone, but metal alloy. What Ash had seen upon leaving the Orca was not the hangar at all; it was just the entrance and maintenance area. _This_ was the hangar.

It was of a rectangular shape, nearly twice as high as the adjoining area and likewise longer, with two levels of various-sized docks protruding from the side walls. The docks aside, the walls, ceiling and even the floor of the place were smooth, polished metal, utterly seamless. Three of the docks on ground level were filled by Orcas, and several more by other aircraft. There were also a number of land-bound craft present, taking up more of the ground-level docks. Two were tow vehicles, used to move the aircraft around the hangar, and the others were all-terrain personnel carriers. All told, it was an impressive display of vehicular resources, but the hangar was far from capacity. A bare third of the ground-level docks were filled, and the upper ones were completely empty. Oddly, there seemed to be no way of accessing them at all.

"Wh-...W-WHAT?!" If Ash was stunned before, he was flabbergasted now. "_HOW?!_"

Gary chuckled at his friend's stupid expression. "I... don't know?"

"No, I mean _how the hell did you guys build this thing?!_"

The pilot broke into hysterics. "We didn't _build_ this! Are you _nuts_, kid?" he asked, his words punctuated by laughter. "Modern tech only goes so far. We _found_ this place, believe it or not, almost exactly as it is."

"You can't be serious! Who built it?"

"No one knows," Lance said, walking up to join the group. "The original Guardians discovered this place decades ago, and despite all our efforts to discern its origins, they remain a mystery. The technology inside- heck, the building's constitution alone- it's lightyears beyond anything we have today."

"So it's made by aliens or something?"

"We haven't discounted that possibility," the pilot said, rubbing his chin. "In America, they've recently uncovered what they think is an alien spacecraft. I've got a contact in their research team, and he tells me it's pretty similar to what we've got here. Pretty cool, huh, Ash?"

"Tell me about it..." Ash mumbled, the pilot's voice once again ringing in his head. "Listen... sorry for my bluntness, but it's been bugging me: Have we met before, sir?"

The man gave a belly laugh. "I should say so... ya little baby." Reaching up, he undid the strap beneath his chin and pulled off the visored helmet, revealing piercing, ice blue eyes and a head of short, spiky blond hair. Pikachu let out a squeak. "Lieutenant Vincent Surge, at your service. It's good to see you and Pikachu doing so well."

"Sir!" Ash exclaimed, startled a bit at the revelation. "I... wow. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you."

"No worries, kid; it's been quite some time, after all. 'Course, I'd remember _you_ anywhere. I don't think I could ever forget." He shook his head, hands on his hips. "You're a standout kinda guy, Ash; I knew I'd see you here someday. You too, my yellow friend."

For what seemed to be the hundreth time today, Ash had to struggle for words. "I... um, I mean... thank you. It's good to be here."

"Pi-pikachu!"

"It seems you've made good impressions all around, Ash," commented Lance, smiling. "Now, I need to get going; Noland and Brandon are waiting for me. Vince, I'd like you to join us. This will probably turn into a strategy meeting, and I need your expertise."

"Absolutely, sir."

"Oak, Fisher," the Guardian commander continued, "show our new recruit around the base. I'll raise you on the PA when I need him. Just show him to my office and you're dismissed."

"Yes, sir," chorused Gary and Jeanette with twin salutes.

Lance returned the gesture and turned away, heading off towards the huge hangar entry with Surge at his side. Agatha, Will, Koga and Bruno followed.

"Geez," Gary sighed once the older Guardians were out of earshot. "Look at you, Mister Bigshot: all buddy-buddy with the Lieutenant. I've been here two years, and he still won't acknowledge me."

"Hey, he gave you that Electrizer, didn't he?" Jeanette pointed out. "That's something. Don't be so negative."

"_Prototype_ Electrizer," Gary corrected. "And only because I had an electabuzz."

Jeanette gave Gary an exasperated look. "There's just no talking to you, Gary; you know that?"

"So! You guys know each other pretty well, huh?" Ash cut in quickly, hoping to break up what he sensed was an impending arguement. He desperately wanted to see the rest of the base, and a fight between his guides was the last thing he needed.

"Guardians typically work in groups of three to six," Gary explained. "Each group is made up of one senior member and two to five juniors. Lately, though, we've been understaffed, so the groups are split a lot finer. My group used to be the two of us and another guy with Surge as the leader, but now it's just me and Jeanette. She's my junior."

"Your _partner_, you mean." Jeanette rolled her eyes at Ash. "Our ranks are the same. The walking ego here-" she said, jerking her thumb at Gary, "-has just been around a bit longer than me."

"I see..." Ash said slowly, watching Gary fume. "Well then, should we start the tour? I want to see what else this place has going on."

"Ah, yeah," Gary piped up, brightening. "We need to get a move on; there's a lot of ground to cover... Alright, so, as you can see, this is our aircraft hangar. It's the only entrance we've got to the base itself; that giant door on the far wall of the docking area is the only way inside. Now, there are two ways to reach this cave. One, you fly in through the hidden gate, like we did, but that doesn't happen too often. Two, as Will mentioned, you take the mag-rail system through the tunnels beneath the mountain. We have stations hidden in a few places in the area, but all the tracks end right over there," he said, pointing to a wide concrete tunnel in the rock wall to the right, beneath the control tower Ash had seen earlier.

"Moving along..." Gary headed towards the giant door that led to the docking area, gesturing for Ash to follow. "Here we have our craft docks. The setup's pretty-"

---

_Shlick_.

At the other end of the hangar, Lance slid his cell phone shut, replacing it in his pocket with a small sigh of relief and heading for the huge door on the hangar's far wall. He placed his palm on a panel next to the frame, and the door slid upward into the wall, completely silent in movement.

"That was John," he announced to his comrades, gathered in the wide corridor beyond the three doors. "The captured Rockets were placed under police custody without incident. They'll be held in a local jail overnight, but they should be transported here tomorrow."

"Here?" Agatha said, eyebrow raised. "What on Earth for?"

"Apparently, given the scale and implications of the attack, and our current level of involvement under the guise of the Elite Four, the boys upstairs voted that the Guardians spearhead the counter-offensive. The decision was unanimous: they want TR taken down for good."

"Total green light, then?" Surge asked with a grin, already knowing the answer.

"Total," Lance confirmed. "We have free reign on this one, so let's make the most of the opportunity. Will, have you assessed the situation with the Brains?"

"Yeah, Severn sent me a wave. She and Blaine are waiting with them in the commons meeting room."

"Perfect. Let's go."

The group walked quickly down the wide, barren corridor, Lance at the head, and emerged from the arch at the other end and into the base's expansive central hub.

The hub was a huge, two-story, cylindrical chamber with a ceiling approaching sixty feet in height. Four doors on the walls of the lower level led to the Guardians' storage, medical, training and meeting rooms, and a fifth, directly across from the archway, led to the living quarters, mess hall and recreation facilities. Dual grand staircases, one on either side of the fifth door, granted access to the upper floor, where the command center and other administrative areas were located. The entire room was apparently supported by a massive central column, a metal pillar near twenty feet in circumference that ran from the floor to the ceiling.

The door Lance needed, however, was the one to the immediate left of the arch: the main meeting room's. It was there that the Guardian heads met with lower-ranking members to relay news and discuss battle plans, and there that he was meeting Noland and Brandon. The heels of Lance's boots clicked against the metal floor as he crossed over to the door. With another press of palm against panel, the meeting room door slid open, and Lance and the others stepped through.

Beyond the door was a fairly average conference room, long and narrow, and decorated and furnished sparsely, save for a long table than ran the length of the room. In four of the plush office chairs surrounding the table, at the far end of the room, sat four figures.

The first, sitting in the last chair on the right side, was the only woman, a poised, icy beauty with smooth, stick-straight black hair that hung to the small of her back. She was nearly expressionless as she spoke to the man across the table from her, her dark brown eyes betraying nothing. She was Saffron Gym Leader Sabrina Severn, purportedly the world's greatest human psychic.

The man across the table, his troubled eyes locked with Sabrina's impassive ones, was an odd character. He was of average height and strong build, his muscular arms fully exposed by a black tank-top and sleeveless white coat. A bright red driver's cap, typically jammed over his short, unkempt brown hair, sat on the table before him. Frontier Brain of Knowledge, Noland Suzuki, friend to the legendary Articuno.

To Noland's right, his arms crossed, sat a gruff-looking, middle-aged man dressed entirely in green traveler's gear. He had thick, curly brown hair that was clearly graying, and bushy, caterpillar brows that had adopted a perpetually stern angle. Rough stubble covered his chin and he looked a mess overall. He was Brandon Graves, famous explorer of the unknown, Frontier Brain of Courage and the Guardians' Frontier Commander.

Across from Brandon, on Sabrina's left, was another oddity of a man. He was relatively short: five-foot-seven at most, and, excepting his great, flaring, stark-white moustache, he was completely bald. He didn't even have eyebrows. He wore a black polo shirt and Poke Ball patterned tie beneath his long, white labcoat, and a pair of round, wire-rimmed sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose, their reflective lenses covering his eyes entirely. Doctor Aidan Blaine, Cinnabar Island Gym Leader, renowned research scientist, master of riddles and Head Gym Leader of Kanto.

"Hello gentlemen, lady," Lance greeted the assembled as he entered.

"Commander," they chorused back, nodding.

"Don't you people have gyms to run or something?" joked the ever-effulgent Surge to his gym leader fellows, taking a seat next to Blaine.

The odd doctor chuckled, shaking his head, but Sabrina frowned. "While I can appreciate the need for levity in times of trouble, Lieutenant," she replied to Surge, "this is not the place or time." She discreetly inclined her head in Noland's direction.

While Surge muttered something about "no sense of humor", the other Guardians took their seats, with Lance at the head of the table. As the leader settled himself into his chair, he jolted suddenly, then relaxed.

"Ah," he said, shaking his head a bit, "thank you, Miss Severn."

Sabrina nodded in demure acknowledgement. A simple information upload to a willing recipient. There was nothing to it.

"Now then..." Lance began, pausing to mull over the newly-received information in his brain. "As I'm sure you're all aware, Articuno, the legendary bird of ice, appears to have fallen under Team Rocket's control. Noland, Sabrina tells me you've noticed Articuno's absence for some time now. Can you remember when you last saw it?"

"Not for sure," Noland replied, hand on his chin. "It's been months for sure, but not many."

"Have you used it in battle recently?"

"Yeah. A while back. A few months ago, I think, against a kid. Now that I think about it, that's close to the last time I saw it. It left for Seafoam not too long after."

"Do you remember anything odd about the challenger?"

"Only that he was the best match I've ever had," Noland said with a grin. "No way in hell that kid is in with the Rockets, believe m-."

"_Ash_," Brandon interrupted in his rough, barking voice. "His name was Ash Ketchum, not "kid". I remember. You told me about him a few weeks before he reached my facility. I agree. Not a Rocket. Impossible."

Lance laughed, unable to help himself. "Ash Ketchum is our newest member. He was instrumental in fending off today's attack. Apparently, he's also Simon Ketchum's grandson. I must say, it's certainly unlikely that he is a Rocket."

"It does seem unlikely," Blaine agreed, his nonexistent eyebrows raised at the revelation of Ash's ancestry, "but we shouldn't rule out anything. TR has changed; the terrorist attack today proves that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Who knows what they have up their sleeves?"

"I'll take that into account, Aidan," Lance said, "but I, too, can vouch for Ash. He isn't capable of that kind of evil."

"I should hope not, but with all due respect, Lance, you have a tendency to be rather naive when it comes to judging character."

"Noted. I do try to see the best in people. Sabrina, go to the data center and print up Ash Ketchum's match records, plus any other relevant info, and deliver them to my office. After that, you are dismissed; I know your city needs you."

Sabrina rose with a nod and left.

"The records will give us a rough time frame," Agatha said. "Now we need to fill in the blanks. What happened between Ketchum's match and today's incident?"

"There's no way to tell." Lance shook his head, looking frustrated. "We don't have a whit to go on. Our best bet is the interrogation tomorrow. Aidan, Will, Vince, we're counting on you."

"What about Severn?" Will said, reclining his chair. "She's a stronger psychic than me; why don't you put her on the interrogation team?"

"Sabrina is needed in Saffron; there's some sort of metaphysical disturbance. She's been waiting on dismissal for days now, and I have to let her go. Besides, you've got more capacity when it comes to this sort of thing."

Will sighed. "Can't argue with that. Sevvy never was the aggressive type, you know? Heck, she almost puked trying to crack Aidan."

"My mind is a fortress," Blaine said with a hint of smugness.

Noland leaned over the table to look Will in the eye. "I trust you, William. Find Articuno. Please."

The psychic smiled. "Consider it done."

---

"...If you go through here," Jeanette said, leading Ash between the two large staircases in the main hub, "you reach the door to the dormitories and recreational areas."

As the group of three approached the door on the wall past the stairs, it opened, and out came two teenage boys and a girl, perhaps two or three years older than Ash, chatting and laughing amongst themselves.

"Who were they?" Ash asked as the group passed them by.

"The girl is Samantha-something. As for the guys, I haven't got a clue," Gary replied with a shrug. "There aren't a whole lot of us here, but there's enough that it's pretty much impossible to know everyone."

Ash, Gary and Jeanette filed through the doorframe and entered a long hall, not unlike the one leading from the hangar to the main hub, but significantly narrower.

"This door right here," Gary said, turning to the door on his immediate right and slapping his palm against the reader, "leads to the mess... The cafeteria, basically. Kinda like the one back at school, but less nasty. G'wan and poke your head in there, but let's not dawdle."

Ash complied, craning his neck around Gary's shoulder to see into the mess hall. It was long and wide, clearly running parallel to the hallway, and did indeed resemble nothing more than a school cafeteria.

"Onward," Gary said shortly, grabbing the top of Ash's head and pulling it back into the hall. "Both doors on the right side here lead into the mess. These two on the left-" he gestured toward the doors in question, "-lead to the recreation room, where we hard-working heroes get our veg on, and the physical training room, where we tirelessly torture our bodies in the name of self-image. And ass-kickery."

"Whose ass are we talking, here?" Ash laughed.

"Gary's usually," Jeanette answered. "At least when _we _spar."

"You've got black belts in stuff I've never even _heard_ of. Sue me."

Ash looked skeptical. "So we have to... fight?"

"Damn skippy." Gary grinned evily. "Half of basic training is Bruno working you over like he owns you. ...But don't worry _too_ much; all that hiking you've been doing has left you in better shape than you think."

"Okay. I think. So what's that door on the end?" Ash jerked his thumb down the hall.

"That's-"

"_Oak, Fisher, show Ketchum to my office as soon as possible,_" echoed Lance's voice from a wall speaker.

"That's your cue," Gary finished. "Head back to the hub and up the stairs. Make a left at the top, and it'll be the first door on your right. Don't forget to knock."

"What about you guys?"

Gary grinned mischeviously, looping an arm around Jeanette's shoulders. "We need our _alone time_."

"_Piloswine._ Get your hooves off of me."

---

A minute later, a lone Ash found himself standing awkwardly outside Lance's door. Even Pikachu, who'd passed the tour in silence, seemed tense. Ash had passed several people on the stairs and the upstairs walkway and shuffled nervously by, unsure of how to react. Not once until now, despite his nerves, had he thought his decision back at the stadium to be a mistake, but suddenly, he wasn't quite sure. He scratched Pikachu under the chin: a typical nervous tic of his.

"I don't know, bud. It's a whole new world, here. Am I ready for this stuff?"

"Piii." Quite uncertain.

"Should I tell him I've changed my mind? Can I do that? I mean, I don't even-"

"Ash, is that you?"

Ash froze at the sound of Lance's voice coming through the door. "Uh, yes, sir, it's me."

"Come on in."

The boy said nothing in reply, staring at the seamless metal of the door and the unusual handprint reader that he knew opened it.

"Just give it your hand," Lance said mometarily, guessing at the cause of Ash's hesitation.

Still uncertain, Ash reached out and pressed his palm flat against the panel. The door shot open, and Ash jumped back a bit, as though he hadn't actually expected the door to work for him.

"What are you waiting for? Come in."

Lance's office was quite spacious, as offices went. Ash guessed it was roughly the same size as the living room in his home back in Pallet. A large couch sat against the wall next to the door, and shelves and file cabinets lined the walls, all predictably full. At the far end of the room sat Lance, behind a modern, steel office desk. He gestured to one of the wooden chairs placed before the desk.

"Have a seat, Ash." He frowned as the boy took a chair. "You look nervous. Is there something wrong?"

"No sir, I- ...I mean, yes sir," Ash stuttered. He kicked himself mentally. He never stuttered. This was like the night before his final Kanto match times a hundred. What on Earth was wrong with him?

"What is it? Don't worry; you can tell me."

Ash bowed his head slightly, avoiding Lance's gaze. "Honestly, Lance, sir, I dont... I don't know if this is right for me. This Guardian thing."

"Oh?"

"I mean no disrespect," Ash added quickly, raising his head. "It's just that I can't shake the feeling that I don't belong here."

"Go on."

"I think what the Guardians do is great; I mean, you're heroes, and the people here are really nice, and I know I have blood here- my grandfather was a founder, I guess. But when I was standing outside your office just now, I felt... weird. I'm not a hesitant person, y'know? But when I was out there, I just couldn't find it in me to step forward. If you hadn't called, I'd probably still be out there. I have to be honest, sir: I feel like I'm out of my league, here. Here I am, talking casually with the man I've idolized for years. I don't _deserve_ this. Not yet."

Lance sighed, lacing his fingers on the desk before him. "Listen, Ash- You don't mind if I call you Ash, right? I know how you feel. Many before you have felt the same way, and if you still feel that way after this conversation, then you can be on the next Orca out. But hear me out, alright?"

"Of course."

The Champion coughed lightly, and sat up in his chair. "I see many things in you, Ash: uncertainty, yes, even fear. But also drive, courage, potential for greatness. ...But most of all, what I see in you is myself. Myself at nineteen, standing in disbelief before Agatha Erdgeist as she pronounced me the new Champion of Japan. Myself at twenty one, beyond words as Samuel Oak and Johnathan Rowan passed leadership of the Guardians down to me. ...Myself at twenty-eight, addressing a stadium full of distraught citizens and promising them justice."

Lance closed his eyes, shaking his head. "There are no "leagues" among men, Ash. No ranks or tiers. You cannot quantify a person's worth; it is impossible, but we try, and that's one of our greatest faults. Not so long ago, I could have been accused of that fault. Not so long ago, I looked up at those before me, those I thought above me, and I said, 'I am not worthy. I am out of my league.' ...But, over time, I realized something, and it is this: We are all equal. It sounds obvious, I know, but think: how many times has that phrase been repeated without meaning? The average person has no idea what equality truly means; they see only the rankings, the facts and figures, and they judge their fellow man on that inveracious scale of wealth, intellect and power. They live by it... and they live in fear of it. They live in fear of being seen as less than one another. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I do," Ash replied honestly.

"It takes a certain kind of person to see that vicious cycle for what it is, and thus escape it. A certain kind of mindset to see that all are equal, that all have the same worth. People have called me a hero, and I agree with them, for, in my eyes, a true hero is a man who knows true equality. I've made it my goal in life to bring that realization, honest and true, to as many people as possible, to make heroes of men. ...Sadly, there aren't many that see things the way I do, not even amongst the Guardians. They seek to eliminate criminals. I seek-"

"You seek to eliminate _crime_..." Ash finished Lance's sentence.

"Precisely," Lance confirmed with a smile. "You see? I knew we were alike. I knew you could see beyond society's shallow judgements. So I ask you, not as your commander, not as your Champion, but as myself,Lance Blackthorn, to stand with me as my equal and conquer your fear and uncertainty. I ask of you not to serve under me as a subordinate, but to stand _beside_ me as a _human being_. I need you here, Ash. The world needs you here. Will you stay?"

Ash slumped in his chair, his mind barely able to process what he had just heard. Could it be that he was special? Beyond the cycle? Did he really have it in him to see as Lance saw? To stand where he stood, as the Champion's equal? It was absurd. Fantastical. And yet... so was everything else he'd seen today. And he could turn his back on that absurdity, walk away so easily and go back to his life as it was. Perhaps it would be for the best if he did. What if Lance was wrong, and he was as mired in the cycle of fear as much as anyone else? A normal boy pretending to be a hero, like Icarus on wings of wax, flying in the face of the sun, would fall, and hard.

_I can't be like him. I don't know what I'm doing here. _

The sun called to him, still, defying him to prove the veracity of his wings. Though his doubts and fears were many, that nagging "_what if?_" persisted at the back of Ash's mind. What if it was true, what Lance had said? What if, somewhere inside him, was the hero that Lance saw? It seemed too good to be true, almost impossible... but not quite.

_Just say no. It's easy. Just say-_

_No._

Lance's words had spoken to Ash's very nature. They had awakened something in him, something powerful, and now that it had risen, he could not turn his back on it. He could not miss this chance of a lifetime; this chance to prove himself as more than just another kid with dreams of fame. He needed to know, to find out, or he would spent the rest of his life wondering what could have been. No more hesitation. No more nervous indecision. He would fly, and even if he fell in the end, he could live with that. As long as he flew, however far, that was all that mattered. Ash balled his fists.

"I'll stay."

"You're sure, Ash?"

Ash nodded sharply, his confidence rising with every passing second. "I'm sure this time. I'm sorry I hesitated; it won't happen again. This is where I want to be. I want to be a Guardian, a hero. I want to end crime, too, to stop someone like Giovanni Sakaki from ever arising again."

Lance froze. "Giovanni... Sakaki?"

"The Rocket leader. That was him we fought at the stadium, right?"

"Where did you hear that?" Lance asked, his tone insistent.

"From him. When we fought, he told me who he was, trying to get me to join him."

"Ash, do you know who Sakaki is? Or rather, who he was?"

"What do you mean?"

Lance rubbed his brow between a forefinger and thumb, looking troubled. "Ash, Giovanni Sakaki is the former Leader of the Viridian City gym."

"What?!"

"He was exposed as a criminal four years ago, after a sentient bioweapon he created escaped from his hidden facilities in the Viridian gym and terrorized a small part of Kanto."

"I remember that! I saw a news bulletin on it, but I don't remember hearing Sakaki's name... The bioweapon was defeated by trainers, right?" Ash said, not realizing that his memory of his participation in the event had been altered by the "bioweapon", Mewtwo, who had in fact left the public eye to live in peace with his army of pokemon clones.

"That's correct. Two Guardians, in fact, by the names of Neesha Lyons and Corey Markskill. They recovered information that implicated Giovanni, and numerous eyewitness accounts cited the weapon as bursting from the gym; the damage itself was more than evident. A seach warrant was issued, as well as a order for Giovanni's arrest under suspicion of criminal involvement. A team of Guardians under the guise of a special police squad was dispatched to make the arrest, and I led it. We split up to search the gym, and I was the one who found Giovanni, along with his top advisor, Alan Tycho. He resisted, and we battled. I won."

"So if he's in jail, who was at the stadium?"

Lance sighed deeply. "As much I hate to admit failure, he is not in jail. Though I defeated his pokemon, he continued to resist. The other Guardians came to assist, but Tycho intervened and defeated them. In the end, Sakaki escaped by forcing me to kill him if I wanted to stop him. ...I couldn't do it. I cannot take a person's life, whatever the circumstances. It is against my morals, my religion... everything I believe in."

"I understand, Mr. Blackthorn. Really, I do. That's how Giovanni got away at the stadium, right?"

"No, Ash. That's how _Alan Tycho_ got away at the stadium."

"Alan... That wasn't Giovanni Sakaki?"

"No. That was his right-hand man, and if Tycho is leading Team Rocket under Giovanni's name... It could mean something bad. Worse than we thought."

"How so?"

"Ash, the reason why you didn't hear Giovanni's name on that news bulletin was because his criminal status was never made public: all news reports told of a "Rocket leader", but no names were given."

"And why was that?" Ash asked, more confused with every "answer" given.

"The man was highly reclusive, so it's understandable that you hadn't heard of him, but he was a top-ranked Gym Leader, and very well respected in the League community. With no arrests made, if word had gotten out that the mainland's most powerful Gym Leader was the leader of its most infamous criminal organization, there would have been a uproar. The bureaucrats believed that the League, and by extension the government, would lose face, so the case was kept quiet."

"That's ridiculous," Ash muttered.

"I said much the same, but the decision was not up to me," Lance said irritably, remembering the cover-up with distate. "Eventually, public record came to state that the Viridian incident was the result of a terrorist attack, and Giovanni was missing, presumed dead. What few records of him that existed were systematically destroyed in an effort to force his memory into obscurity. Meanwhile, the hunt for him has continued in secrecy. A task force dedicated to his capture has tried to track his movements, and his assets were kept fluid in hopes of tracing him, but he's eluded us so far... What Tycho told you, this masquerade of his, is evidence that Sakaki no longer leads TR. But what's more, it means that Tycho no longer values the anonymity and protection that the cover-up provided him. He wants the public to know the truth."

"He's trying to achieve... what the govenment was afraid of," Ash said slowly, the implications of Lance's words sinking in. "He wants people to get mad at the League... But why wait until now?"

"Think, Ash. The Rocket attack earlier. If the people would be angry at discovering Sakaki's identity before, how much angrier would they be now, finding out just after he has attacked them directly? The League sanctioning a terrorist, with no knowledge of his criminal dealings, then presuming him dead while he plotted their downfall? It would be considered unforgivable incompetence."

"Still, it's not really Sakaki- it's Tycho. How long could it possibly take before someone realizes that they've been lied to?"

"Hmm... Even though all photographs and records of Giovanni were supposedly destroyed, digital records are notoriously tenacious. Our porygon are good, but there are limits. In all reality, it wouldn't take long... at... all..."

Ash raised an eyebrow. "So what's the problem, then? ...Lance?"

Lance sat bolt upright, reaching for a panel of buttons set into the surface of his desk. "That _is_ _the problem_, Ash." The Guardian leader compressed a button on the panel and spoke loudly and clearly for the PA speakerphone. "Attention, all Guardians, this is a priority one alert. All Guardians ranked B2 or above, report to the op/co immediately. I repeat, priority one alert. All Guardians ranked B2 and above to the ops center immediately."

"Lance, what's going on? What's that alert for?"

"Think!" Lance near-shouted, rising quickly from his chair. "The Giovanni ploy won't last. He's not stupid; he knows that! The Indigo attack... Articuno... Tycho's appearance... I should have seen it _sooner_. I _knew_ things were different!" He pounded a fist on his desk, causing a wire-mesh cup full of pencils to bounce and overturn. "Their strategy has changed completely: it's an all-out offensive. _This_ is why they've been so quiet until now! This is their _endgame_!"

Ash gasped. "Then..."

"I have to go to the ops center. I'll find you later," Lance said hurriedly, and before Ash could respond, Lance strode past him and out the door.

---

The operations/communications room, the nerve center from which all major Guardian missions were coordinated and monitored, was not far from Lance's office. He merely had to traverse a third of the circular walkway that formed the second floor of the central hub to reach one of the two stairwells that circled around the exterior of the hub and up to the ops center floor.

Ironically, of all the rooms in the mysterious, possibly alien base that had been refurbished for modern use, the spacious, highly advanced ops center was probably the most jury-rigged of all. It had clearly served a similar function for its creators, and the walls were covered, floor to ceiling, in bizarre technology that no Guardian, indeed, no _porygon_ had been able to crack, both figuratively _and_ literally. The unusual, monitor-less, computer-like consoles were built into the walls of the room, and like much of the base, they seemed indestructible. As a result, the Guardians were forced to build around the existing consoles, and though the room was full of the most advanced computer technology of the age, it still looked rather shoddy.

As Lance reached the end of the right staircase and stepped onto the ops center floor, he immediately noticed that quite a few Guardians had already assembled. A large group of men and women were huddled around the largest of the consoles on the central array, staring, hushed, at the huge monitor above it, obscuring it from Lance's view. None noticed their leader's arrival, save one.

"Lance," came the gruff voice of Brandon Graves as its owner broke away from the assembly at the monitor. "How do we respond?"

"Respond?" Lance uttered, somewhat confused. "To what?"

"To the _attack_," Brandon replied shortly, surprised at Lance's apparent ignorance. "Celadon. Isn't that why we're here?"

"Celadon!" Lance exclaimed. "What's happened to Celadon?!"

"Team Rocket did. Look." The Pyramid King gestured toward the monitor.

Lance pushed through the group of Guardians in a daze, making his way to the front of the group. There was a video communcation line open, and a young woman's visage looked down at him from the monitor. She was probably using a portable communicator: the picture was low-quality, fuzzy and distorted, but the fear and worry in her brown eyes were clear.

"Erika! What happened?"

"The Rockets have struck again," came Celadon Gym Leader Erika Ayano's voice, likewise distorted by the communicator. "They stormed the KBN broadcast station, not more than ten minutes ago. They've locked the place down, and have the staff held hostage."

"Casualties?"

"Yet to be determined... They announced over a police hardline that no one was harmed... yet. We're attempting to re-establish contact, but they haven't responded."

"Plan of action?"

"The police won't make any aggressive moves until hostage safety is assured. I think... wait!" Erika's face disappeared for a moment, then returned. "Lance, television. Any channel."

With a few keystrokes on the console, Lance isolated the communique and opened a second window on the same monitor, this one displaying the news on a local TV network.

"_-otten word of a new development on the Celadon attack,_" a grim-looking news anchor announced from behind his desk in the newly-opened window. The headline below him read, "CHANNEL 5 BREAKING NEWS: KBN TOWER ATTACKED". "_We have confirmation that the perpetrators of the attack on the channel thirteen station are, in fact, the criminal organization known as Team Rocket, the same group responsible for the attack on the Indigo League pokemon tournament earlier today. A man claiming to be their leader has contacted us from the KBN building... he intends to broadcast a video message live on television, beginning shortly. I've been told that this network will also receive and broadcast the message. Stay tuned for more informa-_"

The news anchor disappeared, replaced by an image of an imposing man in a fine, woolen suit seated behind an ornate desk, fingers crossed before him. The video's quality was extremely poor, the lines blurry and indistinct, but Lance easily identified the man: Alan Tycho.

"_Men and women of Japan,_" the Rocket leader said, his face impassive, "_greetings. I am Giovanni Sakaki, leader of the organization known as Team Rocket. As I'm sure you have been made aware, I, along with my fellows, am the one responsible for the attack on the Indigo Plateau. I cannot expect you to know me for who I am, only for what I have done, but I implore you to believe me when I say that my intentions are not villainous. For the actions that I have taken, for the devastation that I have caused, and for the innocents that I have harmed, I can only offer my deepest apologies._

_For some time now, Team Rocket has held a reputation as a group of criminals, and more recently, we have been labeled as terrorists. This I cannot begrudge, for until now, we have appeared as nothing but. But I assure you, we have never sought to harm you, the people, nor to benefit personally from our actions. Rather, our past criminal endeavors have merely been means to an end: this end, the goal for which Team Rocket has fought, is the means to rise up and fight against the ignominious organizations that have lied to us, condescended us, and __**ruled **__us for so many years... We are criminals, yes, but more, we are revolutionaries seeking liberty from powers steering our nation on a path to destruction. People of Japan, I speak of our government, and of the Pokemon League. You are skeptical, I'm sure, and you have every right to be. It is your __**right**__ to question, to challenge what others offer as truth; to __**choose**__ what to believe and not to believe, and that is exactly what I am asking you to do. I offer you the following as our truth; decide for yourselves whether or not to take it as your own. _

_The government, and the League with whom they are so closely tied, have lied to us. Those that have claimed to protect us, to ensure our safety and protect our best interests these many years, have in fact done nothing but misled us and blinded us to the truth. They present trainers, "champions" and "elites", as leaders and soldiers, as men and women capable of governing and protecting a nation and its people. They preach a message of peace and oppose international warfare on supposedly moral grounds. They would have you believe, falsely, that our insular nation is protected by its pokemon trainers and pacifist status._

_The __**truth**__ is that we are being led by naive cowards with pretensions of power who, when confronted with the harsh realities of the world, will show themselves for what they truly are. These people are not leaders! They are __**children**__! They are children who use simple beasts to hold sham 'battles' and pretend 'wars' as a means to perpetuate their illusions of strength, when in reality they could hardly be weaker. Is it any wonder that Japan is a laughingstock in the world arena? We bafflingly unify affairs of politics and sport: a practice replicated by no other govenment on Earth! We sit, complacent, unwitting, content with our so-called leaders' notions of pacifism and neutrality. We willingly remain isolated and xenophobic, and all the while, outside our little bubble, the world continues to turn. The American Federation and Republic of China persist in asserting themselves as the two superpowers of the world, dominating the political stage. A tentative peace holds the two at bay, but they continue to hoard capital and bolster alliances. Slowly, undeniably, they grow ever more in strength. The tension is palpable; a conflict, inevitable. A war is coming, a world war, one of a magnitude not yet seen, and whether our leaders wish it or not, Japan will be involved. Whether we enter willingly or not is of no importance: if we involve ourselves, we will be crushed; If we remain neutral, we will be invaded and annexed for our resources. If the League's "elites" cannot stop a band of "terrorists" from assaulting a stadium, how can they protect us from the wrath of another nation? Even in the face of the smallest crisis, all they can do stand impotently before you and promise you justice that they have not the power to bring. As we are, we have no hope, and our leaders, in their willful naivete, refuse to see it. _

_We cannot afford to stand behind this government any longer. We must take a stand. We must make ourselves be heard. We will fight, and fight, and continue fighting until our nation is back in the hands of sensible men. This is the goal of Team Rocket... nay, the goal of every man and woman in Japan brave enough to awaken themselves to the truth, to stand up and speak out. Now that we have raised our flag of rebellion, I ask of you, those brave men and women, to wake up and join us, to fight with us for truth. For the preservation of our mother country. For our very __**survival**__, wake up! If you would support us, then wake up and let your voices be heard!_"

The screen went black. For several seconds, silence reigned in the ops center as the shock of what had just happened set in to the Guardian's minds.

"Shit... _shit!_" Lance slammed his fist against the console. "How could I let this happen?" He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, taking a moment to compose himself before straightening up.

"Lance, are you there?" Erika was back on screen, looking more perturbed than ever.

"...I'm here. You saw that?"

"Yeah... I did."

Lance shook his head violently, unable to contain his anger. "This is... the worst thing that could have happened."

"You really think people will listen to him after all he's done? I mean, no one's going to buy into his lies, right?"

"We can't be sure... And what he said just now... they're not entirely lies. If he knew he didn't have a legitimate case, he never would have attempted this. Anti-government sentiments are at an all-time high. The ultra-nationalist faction is getting increasingly vocal; they believe the government is too peaceful for world conditions. ...Despite everything, his wishes reflect those of much of the populace."

"If those are indeed his wishes," Brandon interjected. "It's unlikely that he honestly intends government reform. This 'rebellion', quote-unquote, is probably another plot for personal gain."

"No doubt," Lieutenant Surge said, stepping forward, "but that doesn't make it any less effective, nor his words any less true. I'm sure you've all had your doubts about this government; I know I have. He's playing on their fears. With China and the Americas the way they are, if they go to war, Japan will be swept away. I'm not saying there'll be instantaneous nationwide revolt, but we can't lie to ourselves; there are people out there nodding in agreement at their televisions as we speak."

Lance turned to his troops, his face hard. "Then we'll just have to prove him wrong. We'll show them how _weak _and _naive_ we are by defeating his false rebellion here and now. Ayano, work with the police and increase security in Celadon. Concentrate on League and government buildings and make an announcement on it. Use the power of your station to assure the people of their safety and the strength of the League. Blaine, Surge, after tomorrow's interrogation, you'll do likewise. I'll get the word out to the other Gym Leaders and government officials and tell them the same. If TR attacks again, we'll make them regret it."

"_Yes, sir!_"

---

Far away from Mt. Silver, a young man in an isolated room switched off a blank monitor with a grin. Pulling a strand of long, crimson red hair behind his ear, he allowed himself a small chuckle at what he had just witnessed. At his side, a small, wicked-looking creature sat, sharpening its long, hooked claws.

"And so, Kaito, it begins," Marco said, scratching his weavile behind one of its feathered ears.

_Your final game, eh?_

Marco straightened at the "sound" of the telepathic voice in his head and turned in his chair to find Tzu and Tycho standing behind him. "Welcome back Tzu, Alan," he greeted the pair.

"Marco," Tycho replied with a nod. "It is done. No casualties."

"I saw. Quite a performance, on both your parts."

_Hardly. Teleportation is my forte; a mere dozen men is nothing._

"Now that we have revealed ourselves in full, time and caution are of the essence," Marco said, standing up. "All eyes shall be on us, and we must make certain that they see only what we want them to see. Brief the admins on their new mission parameters and set them to work immediately, but be sure that your man is here in the Hollow for the final round. The marauder must also be present."

"Of course. ...Marco, I cannot speak against this plan of yours; it is undeniably brilliant. However, this practice of witholding information must end. If something... unexpected were to happen, everything could come undone. Now that I know all the facts, I can understand your motivations, but I still cannot condone this behavior. We are playing a dangerous game here, and you are only making it more hazardous."

"You underestimate me, my friend. Nothing unexpected will happen, for I expect nothing. I _control_ everything. For my plan to succeed in totality, for that control to be maintained, it is vital that everyone involved know only what they have to."

"And that includes the administrators. That includes myself."

"Yes, despite your repeated protestations," Marco said, starting to look annoyed. "This grows tiresome, Alan. Have you not seen the progression of events until now? How each step in the plan has led to the next? That progression, that flow, is based largely on this system of necessary knowledge. To cast off that system now would mean breaking the flow, and that would prove more disastrous than the most unexpected of hurdles could ever be. I have forseen every possibility and taken every precaution. The plan will continue as intended, and it will succeed."

Tycho frowned, silent for a moment. "Very well," he conceded with a sigh. "I can see that your mind is set. But I implore you to take heed of my words: even the greatest empires have fallen to the unforseen, or worse-"

---

"-Betrayal? You are ambitious as they say." A sibilant hiss from thin lips.

"You don't know the half of it." A growling echo in an iron mask.

Elsewhere in the Team Rocket headquarters known as "the Hollow", a second clandestine meeting, darker and more covert than even the first, was taking place. Vicious, the Iron-Masked Marauder, had come to call on the private chambers of elite bodyguard and fellow TR administrator Shu Yong-guan. The matter: treachery. Darkness conspiring against darkness.

"But I must question your intelligence," Shu said in his formal, whispering tone. "The leader that you seek to topple, Mr. Alan Tycho, is my principal as a bodyguard, and our two families are tied together by centuries of history. It is my ancestral duty to protect this man; this is common knowledge, and _I_ am the one you come to with your propositions of betrayal? Foolish. I should kill you where you stand, ambitious one."

"Don't play coy with me, fucking chingus," Vicious snorted, crossing his arms. "Is this supposed to be some sort of test? I'm not stupid. I can see it your eyes: you _hate_ Tycho. I can't fathom your motivations, but you want to destroy him as much as I do. That much is clear."

The Chinese bodyguard shook his head slowly, his long braid sliding back and forth across his back as he did. "My personal feelings and motivations hold no sway over duty. My family protects his. I protect him. This is the way of things. Even if I did desire to destroy Master Tycho, I would never do so. Now... your options are twofold: you may come quietly to the master's chambers so that your punishment may be decided, or you can resist, and I will kill you here."

"What the fuck did I tell you? Enough bullshit. If you were going to kill me, I'd already be dead. I _know_ you want in, now just say the fucking word."

"_Shishishishishi_," Yong-guan laughed through his teeth, breaking his cold facade. "Vulgar, but clever, this one. You may be a worthy ally after all."

"So we're finally on the same page, then?"

"That remains to be seen. The treachery I plot is not for the sake of personal gain. I assume you cannot claim the same."

"And I wouldn't want to," Vicious retorted. "So what _is_ your deal, then?"

"All in good time. All in good time... If we are to work together, then certain facts must be established. Firstly, I shall lead the operation; you will answer to me, and take no action without my express permission. Second-"

"Piss off. I'm not gonna sign myself over to you."

"You no longer have a choice. Should I bring your treasonous attitude to light, it would be your word against mine, and to be frank, I hold considerably more sway with Master Tycho than you. Alternatively, I could simply kill you here and now."

Vicious's face curled into a sneer. The bodyguard was a prick, but he was right. Tycho trusted his protector implicitly, and as skilled as Vicious was in close-quarters combat, Shu was infinitely superior. He'd be dead before he could throw a punch. "...Whatever," the Maruader growled in defeat. "What's number two?"

"You follow my orders without question. Do not expect to know all the facts immediately; simply do as you are told, and trust that you shall profit in the end."

"Trust _you_, the _mutinous extortionist_? Forget it. You tell me now: what do I get out of this?"

"Wealth. Fame. Power. Whatever you so desire, I can provide you in the end. All I ask is that you trust me."

"Fat chance, but I'll follow you anyway; it's not like I've got much of a choice. What's our first move?"

"No move at all. We simply continue playing the parts of the obedient servants. Now get out of here, before someone realizes you are gone. An administrator should be busy, what with the big operation tomorrow."

"Very well," Vicious replied, and on that ominous note, the exchange concluded.


	8. Chapter 7: A Farewell to Arms, Pt I

_7/24/09:_

_Well, I've really let m'self fall behind. That damn Arceus movie is out, and even though I know next to nothing about it, I'm sure everything my cohorts and I have presumed about our wonky creator-mon is wrong. At least, I hope it is; after all, I'd hate to look unoriginal. Regardless, we've got our plans for this fic laid out, and they're not changing. Screw canon. Canon is for wimps._

_I apologize for the extreme lag between chapters (the longest yet!); life is getting the better of us GARhalla einherjar. I won't bore you with the details (details are also for wimps), but the long and short of it is that we're busy as all get out and chapter releases are gonna be slow for a while yet. There probably won't be another three-month gap like there was this time, but don't quote me on that. _

_After much dicking about, we decided to cut this chapter into two parts; partly because we wanted to get _something_ out there, and mostly because I'm sick of seeing the same stuff every time I open up WordPad. Please enjoy the following nonsense._

_- Boss Coffee_

**Chapter Seven: A Farewell to Arms, Pt. I**

The morning after the Indigo and Celadon attacks, the sun rose bright and shining over Mt. Silver, contrasting sharply with the moody tension within the Guardian base. By now, all the Guardians had seen (or at least heard about) Alan Tycho's little public service announcement, and it was visibly affecting just about everyone, albeit in a variety of ways. As the troops gathered in the mess hall for breakfast, one needed only to look around to see how each individual Guardian was dealing with the news of two hard blows to the League in less than twenty-four hours. Many of the junior members had gathered in groups, openly voicing their outrage at TR's audacity and making loud proclaimations of their intended revenge, feeding off each other's youthful machismo. The older Guardians were more divided in their reactions. Some, like Will, sat eating in pensive silence, but others were just as incensed as their younger comrades, particularly Surge, who had gathered his team of three for a "breakfast war room". Koga and his partner had joined in halfway, and the six were huddled tightly together over their porridge bowls, whispering with almost comical seriousness as they concocted a secret, likely very pointless plot against the Rockets. The true Guardian leaders, meanwhile, were considerably more reserved. Lance and Agatha sat apart from the others along with Frontier Commander Graves and Kanto Head Leader Blaine, discussing matters seriously in hushed tones.

Of course, as Ash and Gary entered the room, nearly half an hour past meal call, the tension on the air went straight over their heads; it had been a long night for everyone, and the boys had been no exception. After Lance's rushed departure from his office, Ash and Pikachu had been forced to retreat back to the common area to look for Gary and Jeanette. Jeanette had in fact retired to her room immediately after Ash had seen her last, but he eventually managed to find Gary, who was watching a movie in the recreation area. Gary insisted on seeing the film through to its end, and due to some trouble getting Ash a dormitory, neither of the two had gotten to sleep until well past two in the morning. Both were understandably groggy, and Pikachu had opted to sleep in.

As the pair walked across the room to the serving line, Lance saw them them out of the corner of his eye. He waited until they had gotten their food and then called out, raising a hand to get their attention. "Ash, Gary! Over here."

Exchanging glances, Ash and Gary walked over to Lance's table, seating themselves on the bench seat next to the dragon master.

"'Morning, sir," Gary said, unfurling his napkin. "What's up?"

"First things first: you're late for meal call, Guardian."

"Apologies, sir," Gary replied neutrally. "Long night."

Lance nodded, looking serious."You heard about Celadon, then?"

"The what now?" Gary started, truly looking away from his meal for the first time. "I was talking about finding Ash a room."

"What happened in Celadon?" Ash asked, leaning over the table to see around Gary.

Agatha, seated across from Lance, let out an impatient sigh. "The Rockets took over the KBN broadcast station in Celadon last night. Their leader made a regionwide broadcast announcing their intentions; they're trying to incite rebellion against the government."

"Bull," Gary stated flatly, a look of utter disbelief on his face. "On what grounds?"

"Apparently, we're too weak," Lance said, grimacing at the recollection of Tycho's speech, "unprepared for a coming global war."

"Hardly moral people, but they made a fair case," Brandon said from Lance's right, entering the conversation. "And hello, Ash. How have you been?"

"Brandon! I didn't see you there. You're a Guardian, too? ...I mean- I've been well, sir."

"Good!" The Frontier Brain said with a small chuckle. "I'm glad to see you here, though I suppose it was inevitable."

"That's all well and good," Blaine cut in from his seat across from Gary, "but what am I, Ash, chopped liver?"

"...Sorry, sir?" Ash said, failing to recognize the Cinnabar Gym Leader.

"Ha! I suppose it's only natural you don't recognize me." Blaine removed his wire-rimmed glasses to look at Ash directly. "I hadn't burned off all my hair yet, last we met."

"Mister Blaine!" Ash exclaimed, surprised.

"That's _Doctor_ Blaine to you, youngster. Now that I'm Kanto's head honcho, I've an image to maintain."

"Sorry, Doctor."

"He's kidding, Ash," Lance said, raising an eyebrow at Blaine. "So you _did_ get situated in a dorm, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I'm sorry I ran out in such a rush last night," the dragon master said, looking honestly apologetic, "but as you can see, there's a lot going on right now. We're understaffed as well, so there's going to be a bit of a delay, but we'll get your training started as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I'd like you continue adjusting yourself to the Guardian life: get to know your way around base, and start connecting with the rest of the members. Gary will continue being your unofficial guide, so if you need anything, just ask him, or, if neccessary, myself."

"Sure thing, sir."

"Alright. Time to get moving. Aidan, gather the interrogation group and head for the room. Brandon, you're with me; we're going to meet the transport group at the hangar and collect the prisioners."

As Lance and the others rose and left the table, Ash turned toward Agatha.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Agatha?" he said tentatively.

"Hm? What is it, boy?" the elderly Elite replied, setting down the spoonful of oatmeal she was about to put in her mouth. "And that's _Miss_ Agatha."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I was just wondering... if you could tell me anything about my grandpa. You said before that you founded the Guardians together, and since I never really met him... could you tell me about him? Is he still alive?"

Agatha sighed. "I wish I knew," she said wistfully. "But likely not... I'm sorry. Simon has been missing for many years now... He had an adventurer's soul, that man, always off looking for some new mystery to solve. He could never stand being pinned down for long. On one of his expeditions, more than twenty years ago, now, he disappeared without a trace. A waste, really. He was an incredible man, outstanding in every way imaginable."

"I guess it runs in the family," Ash said with a grin. "I pretty much expected it'd be something like that. My dad's been gone for years now, too... I don't remember much of him, either. Did you know him, too?"

"I met him once, when he was young... around nine years old, I recall. He was a wild boy, that one. Alexander was his name. Little Alex Ketchum. He had his father's intensity, but multiplied. Wanted to be a trainer more than anything. I suppose that's something else that runs in your family."

"No doubt. I don't suppose you know where he is now?"

"I hate to disappoint you again, boy, but I haven't the faintest idea."

"It's not a big deal," Ash said, shrugging. "I mean, I got along fine without him until now."

Gary glanced sidelong at Ash, but said nothing. Instead, he turned to Agatha. "Ma'am, I'd like to ask something as well, if that's alright."

"And here I thought it was the Rockets being interrogated today," Agatha said, with only semi-false annoyance. She sighed. "What is it?"

"Well, I want to know how the Guardians got started."

Agatha gave him a look of mild surprise. "You mean Samuel never told you?"

"I've definitely asked him enough times, but he always gets all dismissive and never really gives me an answer. It's really unlike him to be like that... There's a reason, isn't there, why he won't tell me?"

"He always was rather modest," Agatha said with the barest hint of a smile. "You're right though: there _is_ a reason, and it is that the information regarding the Guardians' origin is highly classified. He's bound by law _not_ to tell you. ...It's beaurecratic nonsense, of course; nothing but more government garbage, but then again, he's not the type to break the rules anymore, either."

"Anymore?" Gary said, raising a lone brow.

"You'd be surprised at how much of a rebel your old grandpa was back in our day," Agatha said with a nostalgic little chuckle.

"Hm. I suppose this has something to do with why he's not allowed to tell me about the Guardians' founding?"

"Indeed. You've certainly inherited your grandfather's curiousity, boy. What could possibly make you want to know about this so badly?"

"Well-"

---

"I have a right to know what's going on with my son, Samuel," said Delia Ketchum, her voice uncharacteristically lacking in sugary tones as she faced down Professors Oak and Rowan from across her living room coffee table.

"I realize that, Delia," Professor Oak replied, sounding rather exasperated, "but there are rules here, laws set in place for the sake of security. I am simply not authorized to tell you, but rest assured that both you and Ash are safer for that fact."

"Don't give me that. I know this organization exists. I know your identity and the identities of several other members. What could you possibly tell me that would be more dangerous than that? Considering you've already compromised your "security" to such a degree, what's the harm in giving up a bit more for the sake of an old friend's peace of mind?"

"Er..."

"She makes a valid point, you know," Professor Rowan said to his colleague. "Besides, this is Simon's daughter-in-law; I think we can trust her, of all people."

"I _know_ we can trust her," Oak responded, tapping his finger anxiously against the side of his coffee mug. "It's our enemies who we can't trust. The more Delia knows, the more she is- and we are- at risk."

"I can handle myself, thank you," Delia said testily. "Look, I trust you with Ash. If you say he'll be all right, I believe you. I'd just like to get all the facts straight. Now... what exactly is this 'Guardian' business, and how are you involved in it?"

"My mind set in this," the Pallet professor said. "I am sworn not to speak, and I refuse to compromise my oath."

"Then tell me whatever you can."

Oak sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "Her son's equal in persistence... I am at my wit's end. Very well: whatever we can. ...John, if you could begin?"

"My pleasure," Professor Rowan said, sitting up in his chair with a grunt. "Where to start... Well, before we get into the Guardians, you should know a bit more about us- our old band, I should say. When Sam and I were young- quite some time before you were born, my dear- we made our way across the country as pokemon trainers. Back then, it was Sam, Agatha, Simon, Benjamin and myself."

"Benjamin?"

"You may know him by his preferred name," Rowan chortled, "Drake, of the Hoenn region Elite Four."

"Such distinguished company," Delia said, a hint of a smile about her lips. "How did you all meet?"

"Not all at once, if that's what you were wondering," Rowan said. "Samuel had best explain: it began with him, more or less."

Professor Oak did his best to look irked his friend's sudden handoff, but his eyes soon slipped shut in reminesceince. "No... In reality, it began with Simon; I just happened to be there to see it.

"It was more than fifty years ago... I was eleven- no, twelve years old at the time. I was in Viridian City, battling Gym Leader Alandra Tyson for the Tremor Badge. I'd gone blow for blow with her for a draw in the first, but her marowak struck a lucky Bonemerang against my noctowl and won the second round." He grinned, clearly reveling in the memory. "My charmeleon, Michael, was my last, and Tyson's Earthquakes were wearing us down. Just when things were looking their worst, a young man in the audience started shouting at the top of his lungs, cheering us on. It was odd, but I couldn't help but feel heartened, and I suppose Michael felt the same- I just barely blinked, and there he was: a charizard! Needless to say, we won the battle with ease."

"And that man... that was Simon?"

Oak nodded with a grin. "It turned out he was only there to ogle Alandra, but we got along quite well, Simon and I. We began traveling together after that, and I became something of his protege. Two years passed as we battled our way across the mainland, and with Simon's help, my pokemon and I became stronger. That year, we challenged the League together. I was defeated just out of the preliminaries, but Simon managed to place twelfth. Dissatisfied, we struck out once more, this time heading for Vermillion. We would travel to Sinnoh by boat, and train our teams against the region's budding league and its wilds. It was there in the port that we first met John."

Rowan nodded. "I was on my way to Sinnoh as well. I was just fifteen, then, but I'd come from my native Orre to Johto at ten to become a trainer, so I was confident in my skills when I challenged Sam to a battle. It was close, but I lost in the end, and to a trainer a full year my junior. It might seem silly now, but it was quite an upset for me back then. When Sam told me that it was Simon who was responsible for his strength, I decided to join them on their trip through Sinnoh."

"We had quite the rivalry in those days," Professor Oak mused with a fond smile. "We were the closest of friends, mind you, but one way or another, everything we did became a contest."

"Sounds like another pair of boys I know," Delia said with a laugh, thinking of Ash and Gary. "So I assume you met Miss Agatha in Sinnoh, then."

"That's correct." Professor Oak gave Delia a look of slight surprise. "How did you know?"

"She was Champion during my training days, remember? It was fairly common knowledge that Agatha Erdgeist was from Sinnoh. I just put two and two together."

"I see."

"We did meet Agatha in Sinnoh, and rather soon after our arrival as well, but even before that, we met Drake," Professor Rowan said. "He was crewing on the ship that took us to Sinnoh. He was a trainer as well, and we developed a fast friendship. He didn't join us then, but we stayed in contact."

"Much later on, when we were fighting the battle that would lead to the Guardians' creation, that contact would become integral to our victory."

Delia leaned forward. "And that battle was?" She inquired, her tone clearly indicating that they were at least reaching the part of the story she truly wanted to hear.

And suddenly, they had reached the point of no return. There was a pause as Oak and Rowan exchanged glances, making no effort to hide their intended meaning: _"How much can we afford to give away?"_ The two professors searched each other's faces for an answer, only to find that just one was clear: _"Not everything."_

Rowan cleared his throat. "Hrm. Well! Understand, my dear, we are under orders not to release information on this matter to the public, and despite your connections to Sam and Simon, 'the public' does, in fact, include you."

"I certainly do understand, John; you've explained it to me enough times," Delia said shortly, knowing full well the two men were attempting to dodge the question. "You and Samuel seem to be under the impression that holding this information will put me in danger."

"It will!" Oak insisted, his famous calm beginning to break. "Delia, please, I ask of you, try to understand my position in this! I-"

"I do," Delia interjected, kind but firm, "and I appreciate your concern. But I must also ask of _you_ to understand _my_ position. I have been as patient as a mother could be in a situation like this. I have honored Ash's wishes and accepted his decision to join your organization without condition. That was his choice to make, not mine. And you, the Guardians, have likewise welcomed him into your ranks. You've placed your trust in him, in this fifteen-year-old boy, my only son. All I ask in return for my consent is for you to place the same trust in me."

"Again, this is not a matter of trust!" Oak said heatedly. "I trust you as much I have ever trusted anyone, but that is not the issue at hand! To involve yourself in this world, the world of the Guardians, is not a decision to be taken lightly."

"-As you have made perfectly clear!" Delia stood suddenly, her arms stiff at her sides and her slim hands balled into fists. "But this world of yours is _his_ world now as well, and if you will have Ash, then you will have me, too!"

The absence of the sweetened tones in Delia's voice was more conspicuous than ever, but what was more startling still was the look in her eyes. An almost frightening change had come over the woman, and Samuel Oak, long and well as he had known her, could do nothing to mask his surprise at her appearance now. Bright, bubbly, and just the slightest bit ditzy: this was the face that Delia Ketchum presented to the world at large, but Oak, in his time with Delia, had seen past that facade. He knew well how intelligent, how sharp his former pupil could be. The Delia standing before him now, however, piercing him with fierce eyes that dared him to contradict her again, had nothing to do with the Delia he had known.

There was an uncomfortable pause as Delia continued to stare down at the two older men, fixing them with that unnervingly intense gaze. It continued for several moments, then, as suddenly as it had come, it was over.

"...I understand," Professor Oak murmured, breaking the silence. "If that is truly what you desire, then you shall know." Professor Rowan nodded in silent assent.

Delia smiled down at them. "Thank you, Sam, John," she said sweetly, taking her seat, all traces of her other, fearsome self suddenly gone from her face. "I know I've put you in a hard spot, and I apologize, but I can't live with not knowing, and for the danger all the more."

"No need, no need." Rowan wagged a hand as though physically waving the apology away. "You are concerned for your son; it is only natural. To the contrary, I commend you for your dedication."

Delia gave Rowan a warm smile for his compliment before turning back to Oak. "Shall we begin, then?"

Oak exhaled slowly, as if about to undertake some monumental task. He set his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers as he fixed Ash's mother with an intense stare of his own. "Now, Delia, as it is, I'm afraid we cannot afford to tell you everything," he said, his voice gravely serious, "but we will explain as much as we can. What you are about to hear, you are not to repeat to anyone under any circumstances. The details of this matter, our inner workings, and our existence itself are government secrets of the highest calibur; if it gets out that we have given you this information, we will lose our positions, and likely our freedom."

"I understand. I will tell no one."

The professor nodded and continued. "The Guardians were founded almost unintentionally, under dire circumstances. We, by which I mean our old group, the Guardian founders, never set out with the end result in mind. Even up until the very moment of the Guardians' creation, we were, for all intents and purposes, precisely what we seemed: a group of friends traveling the nation as trainers. And if not for Simon glimpsing something we were never meant to see, so we would have remained. Had he lasted one round more or one round less in our final tourney forty-six years ago, he would not have seen what he saw... But for better or worse, he did, and we became embroiled in a conspiracy."

"And... what was it that he saw? Who was involved in this conspiracy?"

"Very... very powerful, very important men. I can't tell you who they were, or what they did, but they were corrupt officials in high places- untouchable by conventional means. With a bit of snooping, we discovered that these officials were collaborating to use the power of their stations to fund various criminal enterprises while using their positions in the battling community as a front."

"So these people were League officials?"

"Yes, and highly ranked. And that, coupled with the amount of influence the League had over the government in those days, made their operation virtually bulletproof. Even if we had brought the evidence we had against them to the authorites, they would have used their political influence to push the information under wraps, discredit us, and possibly turn it against us. We had to do something... yet there was nothing that could be done."

"Nothing that could be done by the establishment, anyhow," Rowan cut in gruffly, a certain note of disdain in his voice. "What we knew was of no use to anyone... except us. We did the only thing we could. We took matters in our own hands."

"Looking back, though, it was really a foolish thing for us to be doing, young and ignorant as we were," Oak said with a small shake of his head. "We were just children, and there we were - faced with this unspeakable danger - and we dove in headfirst without a second thought."

"But if not for that youthful arrogance, what would have happened?" Rowan leaned forward, his hands enveloping his knees in a tellingly intense grip. "Where would our country be if not for our actions?"

"I'm not saying what we did was wrong, of course!" Professor Oak added quickly. "To the contrary, it was necessary, but it that didn't make it any less dangerous. ...Things were different back then," he said to Delia. "It might be hard to comprehend from perspective of your generation, but the League- the very nation, even- functioned much differently than they do today. Back then, it was nearly unthinkable to send a ten-year-old on a solo journey; John and I were extreme outliers, starting as early as we did."

"-Which is neither here nor there." Delia interjected, determined to keep Oak on the topic he was again clearly attempting to avoid. Exasperation once more flitted across her face. "Lets make this easier on both of us, because as of this moment you've both said everything and nothing at once. I don't need a history lesson; in fact, I need nothing at all, save for the knowlegde that will grant me my peace of mind. Be as vague and nondescript as you need to be, but prove to me that I can trust you with my son. I don't want to be rude, but get to the point. Please."

Oak glanced at his colleague in yet another silent plea for help, but, to his surprise, the look was not returned. Rowan was looking resolutely at Delia.

"My dear," the mustachioed professor said, "allow me to be frank. We have not been entirely upfront with you. We have thus far tried to allay your fears with vague, roundabout explanations in hope of hiding the truth while sparing your feelings, but, canny as you have proven yourself to be, you are not having any of it. Therefore, I shall give you the truth outright. I'm sorry to tell you this, but we cannot give you all the information you seek. It is classified, and so it must remain; our national security depends on it. We will tell you what we can, but it will not be much. It is... a considerable amount to ask, I know, but I must insist that you be satisfied with what we tell you and not press the matter further."

"You know I can't accept that," Delia said, her doeish eyes narrowing.

"It cannot be any other way," Professor Oak implored her, realizing that if Rowan had caved, then there was no use in trying to maintain the charade. "I would change things if could, Delia; you know I would, but I can't. I give you my word that Ash is in the best of hands and that every possible measure will be taken to insure his safety. Is that not enough- the word of a friend?"

"Under any other circumstance, Sam, but not this one." Delia's voice had a foreign sort of frostiness to it. "If you won't tell me," she said, gathering the cups and saucers and getting to her feet, "then I'll just have to... 'take matters into my own hands'."

---

"-and so I left my home and my sister behind, and we headed for Kanto, the four of us..." Agatha trailed off, to the dismay of her captive audience.

"So you went to compete in Kanto... and what happened?" Gary urged, eager to hear more. At his side, Ash leaned forward expectantly. "I mean, when did Drake come back? He was a founding member, wasn't he?"

"Hm," Agatha muttered noncommitally, looking about the now mostly empty cafeteria. "The morning's wearing on; it's time to get ourselves to work. We'll continue this some other time."

Gary opened his mouth to protest, but he was interrupted by the sound of loud, fast footfalls in the corridor outside. As he and Ash turned in their seats at the commotion, and Agatha craned her neck to see around them, Koga burst through the door.

"Agatha," the ninja master said hurriedly, "we need you in the ops center. Emergency meeting."

"What's going on?" Ash stood quickly, Gary at his side a second after.

"No time to explain," Koga responded shortly. "Continue as you were until further notice. Agatha, please hurry."

"Go." Agatha waved him off, now standing herself. "Begin without me; I'll be right behind you." Koga gave a brief nod and strode quickly back down the corridor, and Agatha headed for the door. "Oak, we may need you; escort Ketchum back to his dormitory and stand by for further orders."

Ash goggled after her for a moment as she left the room, then turned to face Gary. "Is it always like this around here?" he asked, incredulous.

"No, it isn't," Gary replied slowly, not taking his eyes off the door. "...It really isn't..."

---

The door of the operations room opened with a swish, and the slight, hunched form of Agatha Erdgeist stepped through. There was a quiet rustling as fifteen-odd heads turned to face her. Her eyes swept across the crowd assembled around the large table in the center of the room, quickly falling on Lance. "What is it?" she asked abruptly.

"The captured Rockets are dead. Encapsulated cyanide in false teeth," Lance replied grimly.

"Not entirely unexpected," Agatha said with a frown. "But why now, of all times? If they were going to kill themselves, why wait this long?"

"I wish I could tell you, but we're at a bit of a loss." Lance shook his head, folding his arms. "And that's not the worst of it. Will?"

The violet-haired psychic stepped forward. "I dove in the second they went down. They were fading quick, so, easy access... Didn't get much, though. Just..." He rubbed his temples absently. "Just a bit of information on their next move."

"Out with it, then," said Agatha snappishly as she took her place at the tableside next to Lance.

"Saffron. Today. We have less than four hours."

Agatha's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Ridiculous. The largest city in Kanto, in broad daylight, just hours after their last attack? They must be mad."

"They're depending on the element of surprise," Surge, silent until now, cut in suddenly. He scratched thoughtfully at his stubbly chin. "There's no other explanation for it. TR doesn't have the resources for a third all-out attack within forty-eight hours, and they're trusting us to know that." His blue eyes, slightly unfocused, glinted with realization as the pieces of the puzzle came together in his head. "The fact that these suicide grunts took so long to off themselves supports that theory... The fact that they waited as long as possible before ending their lives... it's a clear indication of their limited resources."

"And now they've lost their only advantage!" Lance pounded a fist into his open palm, excitement flashing in his eyes. "We'll lie in wait in Saffron and blindside them before they can do any damage. They can't know we're coming. We can end this here!"

"I agree," Agatha said with a nod. "This is our chance at a decisive blow; it cannot be wasted. Any objections?"

Her query answered by silence, she continued. "We should move as quickly as possible and arrive before the Rockets if we can. Your orders, Commander?"

As if on cue, Lance was transformed. Gone was Lance Blackthorn, Pokemon Champion. In his place now stood an entirely different animal: a soldier, and a true leader.

"Begin preparations for a large-scale operation," he said immediately. "Surge, Blaine, Erdgeist, Graves, we're going to put together a plan of action. Gewalt, raise Severn and fill her in; tell her I'll contact her over the secure line shortly with the info on our counterattack. Sarutobi, Oyama, organize three teams, B2 rank and above, if possible. Get them good to go and inside the ops center for briefing in thirty. Suzuki, get the hangar crew moving; I want two Orcas running hot before we even hit the tarmac. The rest of you, ready your gear and be back in here at o-nine-hundred on the dot. Move it!" The Commander roared his orders rapid-fire, without pause, and seemingly without breath, and swiftly, silently, his soldiers complied. In a flurry of rapid movement, amidst the sound of scraping chair legs and heavy footfalls, the majority of the gathered Guardians rose and hurried from the room to begin their seperate tasks, leaving Lance, Agatha, Surge, Blaine and Brandon alone in the room.

Lance placed his hands on the table and took a deep breath, looking around at his four advisors as he did. His head dipped a bit as he he exhaled slowly, heavily.

"Thirty minutes. Let's make it happen."

---

Less than an hour later, it did indeed happen, as eighteen of Guardians' finest, led by Lance himself, filed into the main hangar bay. Each soldier bore matching black rucksacks and grimly determined expressions. Once inside the smaller, stone-walled launch area, they split into three groups and boarded the waiting Orca transports, a squad of six to each aircraft, plus another three from the third group.

One after the other, the Orcas were cleared for takeoff, and minutes later, leaving only a lingering scent of fuel on the air, they were gone.

Gary stared at the mountainside gate as it rumbled slowly shut. He stood alone, leaning against the archway separating the main and launch areas of the hangar, arms crossed, a look of purest dismay etched on his face.

The outer gate shut with a heavy thud, but he didn't look away.

_"We may need you." _

_"Stand by for further orders."_

_...So much for that load. _

"I should be out there, too," he said to no one in particular.

"No, Oak, you shouldn't."

As Gary jumped in surprise, Agatha walked up alongside him, her tip of her cane clicking against the smooth-paved floor.

"And why not?" Gary asked defiantly, doing his best to play off his shock at the ghostly elite's very sudden appearance. "I've been at this for years now. I've trained hard. I've _proven_ myself. Do they really think I'm not ready?"

"I am one of those 'they', Oak, so mind your tongue," Agatha said warningly. "And yes, we are indeed of the opinion that you are not ready for combative field work. You should count yourself lucky that you were even admitted into the organization at your age. It was your remarkable mental and emotional maturity that allowed you your place amongst us, and I must say, you are currently displaying an alarming lack of both. I shouldn't even be telling you this, but Lieutenant Surge has recently proposed that we begin your proper field training. I was in agreement at first, but now I've half a mind to recommend Lance to put you back on assignment with Professor Rowan. If I were you, I'd keep quiet, follow orders, and be grateful for what I got."

"But that's not-"

"No buts, boy. We've all got to deal with our lot in life. You're too young to fight, and that's that. I... I am too old, and that's that. I certainly understand your feelings- I daresay I understand them better than you do- but that doesn't change the facts." Agatha fixed Gary with an odd look, one closer to actual sadness than any he had seen on her before. It was rather unnerving to see such an expression on her, the veteran trainer known as the 'Iron Woman'. "...Yes, Oak, you are too young, but you should take a step back, and try to recognize your youth for the blessing that it is. Time is on your side. You grow stronger, smarter, closer to your goal with every passing day, while I slip further and further away from mine. I would give anything, _anything_, to trade your position for my own."

Gary stared. "I'm sorry," he uttered, looking somewhat alarmed. "I... wasn't thinking."

Agatha shook her head. "That is the nature of youth: always in a rush, acting without a whit of care for the consequences... it's a mindset that is both dangerous... and powerful. I rather miss it, myself," she said with a wry grin. "It is good to be young and strong and impulsive, but always bear in mind that there is more to you than what you are presently. You believe yourself to be strong- that's a start. Now, keep training, and become stronger still. Your time will come before you know it."

"Yes, ma'am. I will."

"Now, I suppose you should collect your friend from his room; I expect he's eager for some news."

---

"An attack on Saffron?!" Ash nearly shouted, leaping off of his dormitory bed and almost knocking Pikachu off his pillow in the process. "So what are we sitting around here for? We need to go!"

Gary just laughed and tossed himself into a chair at Ash's bedside. "...'Eager' was an understatement," he muttered under his breath.

"Huh? What was that? C'mon, spit it out. Did we get orders from Lance?"

"No, it's nothing," said Gary quickly, trying hard to suppress laughter. "But do you seriously think you'd get to participate in an operation like this? You got here _yesterday_, for God's sake. No, us little ones get to stay behind and hold down the fort while the big kids go out and play cops and robbers."

"We're... not going?"

"Would if I could," Gary said with a shrug of his shoulders, "but it's usually just B2s and up that get to go on dangerous field missions like this one, and this is like the _mother_ of all dangerous field missions. Even with the personnel shortage, Lance is only accommodating a few B1s."

"B1?" Ash cocked his head a bit to the side. "Rankings?"

"Bingo. Guardian ranks run by a simple, alphanumerical heirarchy. D is the lowest- total newbies- then you've got your C1s and then your C2s- that's me- and that's the bottom tier. You're really not a full-fledged Guardian until you hit B1, which basically means that you've finished all your basic training and you're ready for actual assignments. After that, getting to B2 rank is really just a matter of specialization- deciding on what field you're working in... Mechanical, intelligence, field operations, and so on. The Bs are the middle tier; most of the Guardians are B-ranked, 'cause that's as far as most of 'em get."

"And I assume 'A' is next?" Ash said, dropping himself back onto the bed at last, finally resigned to staying behind.

"Nope. It's 'Q'."

"You're joking."

" 'Course I am. Anyway, it's A1 next, and then- you guessed it- A2. Almost all the A-ranks are Gym Leaders, Elites, or other important people in the League or government. See, A's supposed to be an administrative rank; A-ranks aren't really meant for field work, traditionally speaking, seeing as a good eighty-five percent of them are practically celebrities. All that changed with Lance, though; he wouldn't have any of it. He probably does more undercover work than your average TV spy."

"He's an A2, then?"

"Nope. He's an S. _Sooper Speshul_."

Ash laughed.

"Seriously, though," Gary went on, gesturing for quiet, "it's no laughing matter. Out off all the members in every region, _six_ of us are S-rank, and Lance is the strongest out of all of 'em. That's why he's the Commander. The Head Honcho."

"And the other five?"

"Dunno. We work in divisions by region, and there's not a whole lot of interaction, especially for the lower ranks. The only other one I know for sure is Brandon Graves, since he's Kanto Division, like us. I think it's pretty safe to say that the Hoenn and Sinnoh champs are S-ranks, too, but don't quote me on that. As for the other two, your guess is as good as mine."

"Okay... so we've got D, C1, C2, B1, B2, A1, A2 and S," Ash counted off on his fingers. "That's pretty simple. ...Guess I'm a D, huh?"

"You wish," Gary replied, failing to hide a smirk. "You haven't even been sworn in. That you're here on base at all is a pretty hefty breach of protocol, but I guess they made an exception since you had so many big-shot members vouching for you. Congrats. You might be the very first rankless Guardian. You're like an 'F', or something."

"F, huh?" Ash shook his head. "It's like algebra all over again."

He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before glancing back at Gary. "Hey, if we can't fight Team Rocket, what are we supposed to be doing, anyway? Shouldn't I be training, or getting sworn in, or something useful like that?"

The brown-haired boy shook his head. "Can't start training 'til you're a Guardian, and only the division leader can swear you in. And our division leader-"

"-is Lance," Ash finished for him, snorting loudly. "Great."

Minutes passed in silence, occasionally interrupted by Ash's restless fidgeting. He was doing his best to hide it, but he couldn't suppress a rising feeling of frustration. So he couldn't go on the mission; that was understandable, but why, while so much was going on, when the Guardians were so shorthanded, was he not at least doing some sort of work or training? Sitting about doing nothing under normal circumstances was one thing, but combined with his knowledge of the current situation, the forced inaction was unbearable. Outside the walls of his tiny room, he knew that there was a battle about to be waged, that there were dangerous criminals to be stopped, perhaps even lives to be saved. Knowing that, how could he remain here in silence, contributing nothing? He couldn't... And yet, despite his desire to act, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't remember a time when he had felt more powerless. When he'd been beaten, at least there was the satisfaction of knowing that he'd fought. Even when he was thrown to the ground by the man he hated most, he was still able to stand up again. Every battle he'd ever lost, every fruitless struggle... even lying in the dirt at Tycho's feet: none of those could compare to this. Ash's feelings welled up within him, surging higher and higher like flames in his chest, bucking against the barrier of his self-restraint... Then suddenly, finally, they burst forth.

"There has to be _something_ we can do!" Ash roared, leaping to his feet and startling Gary and Pikachu. "Even if it's menial, or even insignificant. Even if it didn't matter in the end, even if all our efforts turn out to be meaningless, isn't it better to try and fail than stand by and do _nothing_?" He lashed out with his foot, kicking over the empty wastebasket next to his bed. "How can they expect us to be content with this when everyone's out there fighting? It's impossible!"

There was a moment of awkward silence in the room as Ash just stood there, fists clenched, legs apart, breathing through his teeth as Gary stared at him, open-mouthed.

"Man, do you even listen to yourself when you talk?" Gary said momentarily, giving a short, false laugh. He wasn't about to admit it, but it was almost unnerving how closely Ash's outburst reflected the feelings he himself had expressed in his earlier conversation with Agatha. He wasn't much used to sharing opinions with Ash on anything besides pokemon; for him to agree with his old rival so closely on something like this was downright bizarre, and he wasn't sure what it meant. As much as Gary had grown to respect Ash, he still thought of him as more than a little immature in his actions and opinions. In the past, Gary had been disinclined to agree with Ash on _principle_, but here he was agreeing with the kid wholeheartedly. Was this Ash growing up- maturing suddenly? No... This was Ash as he'd always been: loud, brash and impulsive. But then why...?

Gary sighed, pushing the thought from his head for the time being, and rocked forward in his chair to propel himself to his feet. "If you're that dead-set on it, let's go find Jeanette," he said to Ash. "Maybe she'll agree to run you through some basic combatives."

"That's a start!" Ash replied enthusiastically, his demeanor changing instantly at the prospect. "Why didn't you bring it up sooner?"

Before Gary could respond, a loud electronic tone from the PA system heralded a message from the command level.

_"Attention, all available units: this is a Priority One alert," _said an unfamiliar male voice over the speakers. _"All units report to the ops center immediately. I repeat, Priority One alert. All units..."_

"All units..." Gary repeated, looking agast. "_All units_?"

"What is it?" Ash demanded, a mix of fear and excitement on his face. "Does that mean you, too?"

"...It could mean _both_ of us," Gary said after a moment's silence. "That's not a good thing," he added quickly, seeing Ash's face light up. "It means that something bad is happening _right now_. Something _really_ bad. Priority One, all units... sweet Mew..."

"Define 'really bad'."

"Put your shoes on. I'll explain on the way up."

---

The sun climbed ever higher over Kanto, ever closer to noon and the beginning of the Rocket attack on Saffron City. The summer rays beat mercilessly down on the streets of the bustling metropolis, producing a sticky, humid heat that was nothing short of intolerable to the unprotected, and distorting the air with shimmering waves.

And in the midst of the city's heavily trafficked business center, in the front passenger seat of a glossy black SUV, Lance Blackthorn was sweating. This, of course, had nothing to do with the heat; the automobile was a luxury model and had superb climate control. No, this was nerves, and nerves alone. "Anticipation", he would have called it. It wasn't so much the fact that he dreaded the event, merely that he detested the wait.

For the second time in what he was sure had been over half an hour, his eyes flicked downward at the watch strapped to his wrist. He almost swore.

It had been three minutes.

"It won't go any faster, no matter how often you look at it," said Dr. Aidan Blaine, at the wheel of the car on Lance's left. "Relax. We've got half an hour yet."

There was a great squeak of shifting leather as Bruno Oyama leaned forward from the middle bench seat (where he sat alone, to accommodate his bulk) to position his head between Lance and Blaine in front.

"We can only assume," the huge martial arts master said doubtfully. "I mean, all we have to go on is that telepathic reading."

"Which is more dependable than any forced confession," Blaine said, wagging a raised finger. "Telepathic interrogation is not some mental Q&A session. The psychic penetrates the subject's mind and retrieves the information at the _source_."

Bruno was not convinced. "But you yourself have developed countermeasures. Anti-psychic barriers," he said skeptically. "You almost made Sabrina vomit when she tried to read you. Couldn't the same sort of thing be applied to misinformation?"

"Certainly," Blaine replied sardonically. "...If you happen to be a genius of the highest caliber with the mental discipline of a Tibetan monk, but I'm sad to say that the IQ of the average TR grunt lies somewhere in the mid seventies, and if you lit one on fire, I dare say you'd get at least a _bit_ of a peep out of him."

Bruno let out a loud laugh at this, and even Lance cracked a grin before checking his watch yet again. He turned in his seat to look past Bruno at the three B2 Guardians in the rearmost seats, the remainder of his team of six.

"Twenty-five minutes, people."

---

"This is insane," Gary muttered as he and Ash emerged from the dormitory hall into the main hub. He cut straight across the room, making a beeline for the nearest staircase. Several other Guardians, emerging from various doors in the hub, were doing likewise, each one wearing the same grim expression as Gary.

"_What's_ insane?" Ash pressed, jogging briefly to catch up with Gary's rapid strides. "What happened?"

"You should be able to figure this out!" Gary snapped, taking the stairs two at a time. "A P1 on its own is serious business. Like, bombs-a-flyin'-brace-for-impact-women-and-children-first serious. You were there when Lance called the alert last night; he knew that TR might be hours away from beginning their final move, and about a second later, what did they do? They took over the broadcast tower and declared open rebellion against the state! A P1 alert means that either something bad is about to happen on a massive scale... or it just did. Either way, the matter at hand requires immediate Guardian attention."

"And this is the second in two days," Ash muttered as the pair crested the staris. "How often do you guys get these?"

Gary paused in mid step, his right foot on bottom step of the stairway up to the ops center.

"Yesterday was the first P1 of my career," he said, looking over hs shoulder at Ash. "...You picked a hell of a time to join up, my friend."

---

Brandon Graves frowned as he turned his group's SUV off of Merrow Street and on to Lancet, completing his circumnavigation of of the area surrounding the League Center for the fourth time.

"Noland," the Pyramid King muttered to the man on his right, "that was four, wasn't it?"

"Right," Noland replied. "Change course this round; turn onto Center and head down to Galloway."

Brandon nodded, maneuvering the car down Lancet and turning down Center Street, which cut straight through the League Center, the location his group was monitoring.

The League Center at Saffron was a major hub for trainers- a cluster of buildings encompassing the pokemon center, the Saffron League headquarters, several shops catering to trainers, a battling plaza, and the contest hall. It, along with the Silph Co. building in the business district and the Saffron Gym, was marked as a probable Rocket target. The Center, however, was prioritized a step above the other two locations, singled out as the most likely to be attacked, and was therefore under watch by two of the three Guardian groups.

Brandon's eyes flicked back and forth as his SUV drew to a halt at the traffic light at the end of Center, searching the cross traffic for a second car that wasn't there.

"Time," he growled.

"Twenty-'til," Noland said, checking his watch against the dashboard clock.

The cross traffic slowed, then stopped. Brandon's light blinked to green.

"Assuming Vince's team has already passed, we're on schedule," Brandon said, glancing at the stopped cars on either side of him as he drove through the intersection. "Let's hope this Tycho is punctual."

---

"Gary! Ash!"

As they passed through the ops center door, the two boys turned back around at the sound of their names to find Jeanette running up the stairs toward them.

"Do you two know what's going on?"

Gary shook his head. "Not a clue."

"Less than a clue," Ash added.

"Then have a seat and be silent," Agatha called out from the head of the large table in the room's center. Around it, ten Guardians were already seated.

"I brought Ash," Gary said as the three of them took their chairs. "I hope it's not a prob-"

"No," Agatha said sharply, cutting him off. "Quite the opposite." She cast her eyes over the crowd, muttering to herself. "...Twelve, plus Ketchum, and none truly fit for it... We'll have to make do, but by the Eye, I haven't the slightest idea of how."

The Elite closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Ladies and gentlemen, we haven't a spare second, so shut your mouths and open your ears. And for God's sake, don't be asking any stupid questions. A situation has arisen: as of several minues ago, Professor Samuel Oak's laboratory in the town of Pallet has come under attack by enemy forces."

"What?!" Ash and Gary roared simultaneously, both leaping to their feet.

"Shut up and _listen_, you fools," Agatha hissed. "Professor John Rowan is there as well. Both of them are veteran Guardians and very capable trainers. The enemy force is small; they were not expecting much resistance. As such, the professors and a small group of local trainers have succeeded thus far in holding the enemy at bay, but they cannot hold out much longer.

"Our own forces are utterly depleted, on assignment all across the region, and all combat-capable troops on call have accompanied the Commander on the Saffron counter-terrorist operation. You... _we_ are the last line of defense, the only ones capable of reaching Pallet in time to help. None of you have completed your field training, and as such, you are under no obligation to participate in actual warfare. I cannot force you to go, but I tell you now that I am going myself, and I will take any of you willing to accompany me. Those willing to fight, report to the armory. Those remaining behind are free to do as they will. Dismissed."

And in the midst of a dead silence, Agatha lifted her cane, placed it on the table, and walked out of the room without another word.

---

A woman stood silent and alone in the entry hall of the Saffron Gym, her long, straight, dark hair waving slightly in a non-existent wind. An unusual, almost unnatural expression played across her face- one that spoke of certainty and uncertainty, insecurity and calm all at once. It was the face of one who was blessed with precognition, able to vaguely perceive the future without knowing precisely what it held. It was the face of a worried psychic.

Sabrina's brow furrowed so slightly it was nearly imperceptible, and her gently waving hair fell flat against her back once more. A fraction of a second later, without so much as a whisper to announce his presence, a young man was at her side.

"Two minutes on the clock, Headmistress," he announced casually.

Sabrina nodded politely, though she had already known. "You have completed preparations." Not a question, but a statement.

"I have," the man confirmed, despite knowing it unnecessary himself. "Anything on the waves?"

Sabrina did not respond, instead closing her eyes and drawing in a slow, deep breath. Immediately, her disciple fell silent, realizing that his teacher was reaching out into the ethereal haze of the extrasensory domain, searching for information.

A full minute passed before her eyes opened again. "Nothing," she said simply. "Ready the acolytes to move."

"The Rockets might not come at all." The student scratched at the mousy brown hair on the back of his head, his other hand on his hip. "I mean, no readings at all? Doesn't seem right."

"Indeed," Sabrina replied, turning her head as if to look straight through the wall of the entrance hall and through the northwest wing of the Gym. Her brow creased sharply. "Yet they have arrived all the same. ...Silph. Go quickly."

And in that moment, leaving her open-mouthed subordinate behind, she was gone.

---

In a rush of displaced air, twelve people appeared on the roof of the Silph Co. building, courtesy of a Teleport from Tzu the alakazam.

At the head of the twelve stood Vicious, in full Rocket garb, with his red armored vest on over his uniform and his iron mask on his head. A small sub-machinegun hung on a belt over his shoulder. He gave a short salute to the alakazam as the pokemon teleported away, took six steps forward, then turned to face his squad.

"The executive offices are four floors below us," he barked, turning to a grunt on the far left of the group. "And the one we want, the _Big Goddamn Cheese_, is right under my feet. Anderson- get us there."

The grunt, Anderson, stepped forward, drawing two Poke Balls from his belt, but as he moved to release them, he froze in mid-throw, his eyes fixed on Vicious as though looking through him. Vicious stared back, his eyes narrowing behind the red-tinted slits of his mask. Anderson stared back, still unmoving.

There was a beat, and then, in a single, sudden movement without warning or hesitation, Vicious whipped around, grabbed the gun at his side and fired two quick bursts. As the Marauder watched, the twenty rounds of nine-millimeter he had just fired slowed rapidly in their course and pancaked against an invisible wall.

Sabrina Severn lowered her arm, and twenty wasted rounds of small-arms fire clattered to the Silph Co. rooftop.

Vicious whistled. "Nice trick."

"You are under arrest," Sabrina said, ignoring him. "However, you will not come quietly, thereby forcing me to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" Vicious snorted. "Look, lady, you're psychic. We get it. Cool. But let's see you try that Matrix shit against twelve guns instead of one." Behind him, Vicious's team punctuated his statement with the ominous click of eleven safeties being removed. "I dunno how you knew we were here- third eye or something, I guess- but coming here alone was a bad move. Arrogant, really."

As her hair tossed about in the rooftop wind, Sabrina smiled at him. A hint of static crackled on the air.

"You have the mental presence of a vigoroth; you may as well have trumpeted your arrival... and I am _not_ alone."

A blast of air sent Sabrina's hair fluttering in every direction as ten of her most skilled disciples and their partner pokemon appeared from nowhere on the roof behind her.

"Surprise, surprise." Vicious grinned ferally, apparently unconcerned by the arrival of Sabrina's reinforcements. "Neither are we."

And in the middle of Kanto, on a sweltering summer day, snow began to fall.

---

Back on street level, Lieutenant Vincent Surge gazed up at the sky through the windshield of his SUV as snowflakes began to settle on the tinted glass. He glanced at Koga, sitting in the passenger seat and likewise staring at the greying skies.

"This_ can't _be anything good," the Lieutenant muttered.

The dashboard radio squawked loudly. _"Come in Bravo team. This is Alpha. Do you read?"_

Surge snatched the reciever from the console. "Bravo here. Loud and clear. Status?"

_"It's Silph. Sabrina's group has engaged the enemy; we're flying in to assist. Relay to Delta and hold your positions, but be ready to move."_

"Understood."

---

"Alpha team over and out," Lance said, replacing the handset on the dashboard console of his vehicle. Reaching down, he pulled a heavy, padded, matte black helmet from beneath his seat, and as the rest of his team followed his example, he smoothed back a shock of crimson hair and placed it over his head. He fiddled with something on the helmet's right side, near his ear.

"Alright people," he said as a mirrored, silver visor swung down from the beneath the lip of the helmet to cover his eyes. "This is it. Let's show them who they're messing with."

The SUV's four doors opened simultaneously, and onto the rapidly cooling pavement outside the Silph Co. headquarters stepped Lance, Blaine, Bruno, and the three others, uniform and unrecognizable in full urban tactical gear. Along with the visored helmets, each wore a midnight blue jumpsuit, black tactical boots and gloves, a kevlar vest and armguards, a utility belt with various accessories, and scaled carbon-fiber shoulder protectors. They looked mostly identical to the Kanto Special Police, but their uniforms were entirely unmarked, save for flag emblems on their right shoulders and left chests bearing Japan's rising sun with a blossoming flower in the center of the red orb.

"Allon, Konda, Kitamura," Lance addressed the three B2s. "You guys have wings?"

In triplicate bursts of light, a pidgeot, flygon and pelipper appeared. Lance glanced over each one and, finding them suitable, he pulled three Poke Balls from his own belt and released their occupants.

"Blaine, take Flammadea. Oyama, you're on Swoop." Lance pointed to his charizard and aerodactyl respectively. "I'll be flying with Dragonite," he finished, leaping up onto the back of his great orange mount. "Helmet comms on; remember your designations. Stay close on my six, and be ready for anything."

The air pulsed with heavy wingsbeats as the six large fliers and their riders lifted off into the air and began their ascent toward the top of the Silph Co. tower, Lance and Dragonite at the lead. Faster and faster they climbed- seventeen, eighteen, nineteen stories. Twenty. Twenty-one.

WHOOSH.

Lance swerved wildly to the right, narrowly avoiding an orb of solid ice. As his eyes scanned the stony gray of the heavens for the source of the attack, a loud squawk from behind him announced the belated success of the projectile he had dodged.

"Alpha three, report!" he shouted into his helmet communicator, not looking back.

_"Alpha six is down,"_ said Blaine's voice in Lance's ear. _"Alpha two went after him."_

Lance relaxed, if only slightly. If there was anyone he trusted to dive after a fallen comrade for a saving catch, it was Swoop the aerodactyl. The pelipper wasn't a huge loss, but on the other hand, Swoop represented a fair portion of their dogfighting power, and if Bruno didn't catch up soon...

"_Incoming!_" Lance yelled as Dragonite rolled to the left to evade another ice orb, hoping a bit of advance warning might prevent another casualty. Several seconds passed in silence. Lance frowned, not reassured. "Sound off."

_"Alpha two, coming up fast."_

_"Alpha three, right behind you."_

_"Alpha four, ditto."_

_"Alpha five, still alive." _

_"Alpha six, ground bound. Fletcher's in bad shape."_

"Glad you're still with us, Alpha six. Get to cover and heal your 'mon. Everyone else, let's-"

_"__**Lance, on your right!**__"_

Blaine's warning came just in time. Lance flattened himself against Dragonite's neck, and the pokemon responded instantly, dropping into a steep dive just as the blast of freezing cold from a Blizzard attack passed through the air he'd been occupying a moment before, coating the glassy side of the Sliph building in frost a foot thick.

Lance straightened out, looking furious.

"Where is he?!"

_"Bank tower." _Lance heard the voice of Alpha five say. _"Flash of blue... Went behind... There! At four o' clock!"_

"I'm going after him!" Lance shouted, wheeling Dragonite around. "Alpha three, you're in charge! Get up top and back up Sabrina!"

_"Roger,"_ Blaine's voice registered dully in Lance's mind as he sped off after what was certainly Articuno. _"Everyone follow me, double time; we've kept the lady long enough."_

As the remaining four rushed through the last several hundred feet to the tower roof, Lance and Dragonite darted around the end of the bank building. Two pairs of eyes darted around wildly, searching for something, anything. A flash of sapphire plumage. A tinge of frost on the air. Then, suddenly, as Lance turned his head to look out over the rooftops nearby, Dragonite dove, almost unseating his rider. As the dragon master struggled to regain proper position, he saw what Dragonite was after: the trailing end of a long, blue tail disappearing behind a building to the south. Lance flattened himself against Dragonite's back, streamlining himself as much as possible, and the chase was on.

As Dragonite cornered sharply around the building, pursuing the fluttering blue tail, Lance took advantage of the shift in momentum and reached for his visor control, activating the infrared option. As the world dissolved into brightly colored blotches, Lance zeroed in on the large null blur that he knew was the frigid Articuno. Hazel eyes narrowed, he struggled to determine the legendary bird's likely path by observing its movements.

However, it seemed that Articuno, likely under the direction of Tycho, would not be predicted so easily. The icy avian was as fast as near any flying pokemon Lance had ever seen, and even more manuverable, something that its rider was taking full advantage of. The Freeze Pokemon weaved hither and thither amongst the towering buildings with an ease so obvious it was almost as though it were mocking him, and Lance cursed as Dragonite struggled to keep up. The Champion could feel the tension rising in his mount's shoulders, and knew that Dragonite was every bit as frustrated as he was. The orange behemoth took great pride in his physical capabilities, and to be so outclassed in the air, his own domain, was almost painful. Alas, Dragonite was but a shade too far out of his element. In the open sky, he would have overtaken Articuno in a heartbeat, but the ice bird's advantage in manuverability gave the it the edge when it came to navigating the narrow airways of this skyscraper maze.

Still, Dragonite plunged doggedly on, doing his best despite his handicap, and that was the most Lance could ask of him, both as a trainer and as a friend. Now it was he, Lance, who needed to come through for Dragonite. He gazed yet more intently at Articuno's non-existent heat signature in the distance, desperately searching for some sort of pattern. It was definitely heading southwest, albeit in the most roundabout way conceivable. As it was, pursuing the bird seemed impossible; they were falling farther behind by the second. Then, just as Lance was about to give up, he saw it: Articuno was turning in a wide, sweeping arc, passing just over the edge of the League Center, the only large cluster of buildings four stories or less this deep in the city, and a clear break in the otherwise cluttered skies. If Articuno passed the Center over, Dragonite would overtake it, but the bird currently held just enough of a positional advantage to cut across the edge before sinking back into the tower maze and safety.

_But you screwed up, Tycho,_ Lance thought, his mouth curling into a grin. _Your bluebird might be tight on the turns, but those big glider wings make you too big to do... This! _

Lance tugged sharply at Dragonite's neck, directing it toward something on his left. Confused at first, and more than a little angry at the sudden jerk, Dragonite looked down to the street where Lance was pointing and understood immediately. A large underground parking lot, built under the Saffron Grand Hotel, had entries and exits on either side, and cut right through the curve of Articuno's flight path. It would be a tight fit to be sure, but this was their only chance.

They took it.

With a great bellow, Dragonite looped around in midair, gaining altitude and momentum, then, with what could almost be called a sigh of resignation, he tucked in his limbs, folded his wings, and dove. At the last possible second, Dragonite flared his wings and arched his back, halting his dangerous descent. Pulling up ever so slightly, he soared straight through the entry, clearing both the drop-down gate and the height limit indicator, rider and all.

The way was clear: the rows of parking spaces created a straight path through the basement structure. Concentrating hard on maintaining an even altitude with the obscenely low flight ceiling, Dragonite glided the length of the building, his momentum assisted by the occasional measured wingbeat. The exit was less than sixty feet away now, and drawing closer by the second, but they were losing speed fast, and it was impossible to re-achieve proper flight velocity in the enclosed space. It was going to be close.

As Lance shouted encouragement, Dragonite drew level with the exit, and, with one last heave of his wings, forced himself up through the opening, landing somewhat awkwardly on the sidewalk at street level.

Immediately, ignoring the stares of passerby, dragon and master took to the skies once more. No sooner had they reached a fair altitude than Articuno rounded the street corner to their immediate right and, seeing them, stopped dead in its tracks.

_Got you._

"Land! NOW!" Lance roared at Articuno's rider as his own mount began charging a Hyper Beam. "Or we'll blow you out of the sky!"

"Fine," came a female voice from Articuno's back, much to Lance's surprise. "I think I'm done here, anyway."

Apparently, Articuno itself understood the instructions, as it immediately dipped its head low and drifted lazily to the ground. Dragonite followed suit and landed nearby, Hyper Beam still at the ready, and Lance dismounted, calmly drawing a handgun from his belt and aiming it level with the Articuno rider's chest.

"Helmet off," he commanded brusquely, purposefully deepening his voice and roughening his manner of speech to further disguise his identity.

The rider stared at him through the smoked glass shield of her helmet. She shrugged. "As you wish."

Reaching up, she pulled off the helmet, and out popped a mass of blond curls. Domino.

"I thought as much," Lance muttered. "Where's your boss?"

"Wouldn't youuu like to know," Domino said in an obnoxious singsong voice. "You government dogs are _so_ disorganized. I swear; it's a shock that you can even dress yourself."

"I don't think you're in a position to be making wise-ass remarks," Lance growled, thumbing the safety on his gun. "I suggest you make this easy on yourself and come quietly. Off. Now. And return your pokemon to its ball. You have six seconds."

Domino didn't move. "Sorry," she said without the slightest hint of sincerity, "I don't have little Artie's ball right now. It's with Boss Sakaki."

"By which you mean 'Alan Tycho', right? Don't piss on my foot and tell me it's raining. This is your last chance. _Where is he?_"

"He is closer than you think, Guardian."

Lance wheeled around in shock. There behind him was Tycho, Tzu at his side. Lance raised his gun, but with a glance from Tzu the pistol disassembled itself in his hands. The dragon master's eyes narrowed beneath his mirrored visor.

_Guardian? Does he know? And if he does, how much?_

"I'm not a guardian," Lance said casually, tossing aside the remainder of his useless weapon. "I'm a soldier. ...And I don't need weapons to beat you." He pulled another Poke Ball from the back of his belt, knowing that Dragonite was busy watching Articuno and Domino. "Surrender now, or you'll regret it."

"A soldier, eh?" Tycho chuckled mirthlessly. "How did that go, what you said earlier? '...Don't piss on my foot and tell me it's raining'? Don't take me for a fool, Champion. I was his closest advisor. Did you really think I didn't know? That he didn't tell me? As if that hulking, orange zubat behind you wasn't evidence enough."

"I had hoped." Lance sighed and raised the visor of his helmet, now speaking in his normal voice. "But thanks for telling me all the same. Now I've got an even bigger reason to take you down."

"Motivations without means," Tycho said, his eyes glinting, "are meaningless."

"That's fine." Lance enlarged his Poke Ball. "I've got the means right- What?!" he yelled in surprise, dropping the red and white sphere. Had it... shocked him?

He stared at the device, lying there on the ground where it had fallen, scarcely able to believe his eyes. The orb was sparking violently, bright currents of energy running over its surface like hyperactive caterpillars. In a second, the currents multiplied tenfold, enveloping the Poke Ball in white light, and with one final, crackling surge, the ball disappeared into thin air. Slowly, Lance shifted his gaze back to Tycho.

"Did you...?"

"How _unfortunate_," the Rocket leader tutted with a poorly feigned air of surprise. "But it _was_ only another _weapon_, after all, and as you said, you don't need them to beat me... do you?"


End file.
